Her Oceanic Gaze
by anaemicfaeries
Summary: Time is never time at all. You can never ever leave without leaving a piece of youth. And our lives are forever changed. We will never be the same.
1. One

_Disclaimer: Peacemaker Kurogane does not belong to these faeries. _

_Note: The song excerpts will be from the Smashing Pumpkins 1995 album, Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness. The summary is a lyric from their song, 'Tonight, Tonight.' _

**CHAPTER ONE**

The wind howled ferociously across the outskirts of Kyoto, and combined with the intense heat of the noon sun could have stalled an army of even the most brazen samurai. Through papery trees it hissed, scattering leaves and dust through dying fields, before lingering on an area of unfinished rice paddies.

The farmers watched in dismay, no one could have predicted such harsh weather that had overwhelmed them so suddenly this season. A few were determined to stand their ground even when the wind become more severe, hurling stones and dirt at the men. Eventually it became apparent that they were no match for such brutal force and they ran for cover behind the torn limbs of what had been towering trees.

As they hid, fervently praying the newly planted rice would hold, one of the farmers could not help but yell to his comrades, his shouts drowned out by the roaring wind. They turned to see what the commotion was all about, squinting in the direction he was waving his arm.

Their eyes widened.

Against the backdrop of the crimson sky, a slim silhouette was trudging along the horizon, trying to keep up with the pace of the whirlwind. The scent of smoke grew stronger with his approach, almost trailing behind him. They stared in astonishment -- if they, grown men, who had become toughened by the natural elements and toil of their work, could not withstand this sandstorm, it seemed impossible that any ordinary man would be able to wander amidst the chaos.

The farmers stared on in awe and pity, shielding their faces from the biting wind until the figure was swallowed whole into the shroud of sand and smoky mist.

They stayed put as the seconds ticked by, waiting for the weather to calm down. Then on shaky legs they stood, gazing into the distance, momentarily oblivious to the destruction surrounding them as they searched for a glimpse of the figure. The farmers wondered if their eyes had been playing tricks on them, before coming to the realisation that they could not have all seen the same mirage. Shrugging it off, the men took in the ruined landscape at last, and began clearing the debris with heavy hearts.

They felt some momentary pity for whoever they had seen, thinking he had to have been finished off by the blizzard. They were unaware that the figure, though burned and thirsty, was still very much alive, and he continued to stagger on, assured in the knowledge that once again, he had escaped death.

--------

_Ten times removed_

_I forget about where it all began…_

_A wild eyed child of the sun_

_And right as rain_

_I'm not the same but_

_I feel the same, I feel nothing_

_Holding back the fool again_

_Holding back the fool pretends_

_I forget to forget_

_nothing is important_

_Holding back the fool again_

_I sensed my loss_

_Before I even learned to talk…_

_And all along, I knew it was wrong_

--------

A blistered hand shielded his delicate features from the wind, while the other gingerly ran over his body, examining burns he had received from a fire he didn't want to recall. Just thinking about the incident that had left him wounded for life and out in the middle of nowhere was enough to make Kichisaburo clench his fist in anger.

He regretted the action immediately as a jolt of pain sped up his right arm, his sword fighting arm. He gritted his teeth as he then thought about the other more recent situation that left him with a temporarily useless arm as well as swordless. He doubled over at the side of the road, and not just because of the pain he felt while straining his muscles. He had been attacked by mere peasant boys, he thought angrily, who had taken advantage of his weak state.

Fuming, he supported himself against the fence post and inhaled deeply, staring out beyond the field of failing crops, his eyes betraying his blank expression. He stole a glance at the road with disdain -- if you could call it a road, he mused, scowling at the dirt track with its jutting rocks gleaming in the sun.

The wind made his once glossy locks billow around him, grating his nerves. It wasn't as harsh as it was a couple of hours ago, but it still irritated him. He took a moment to tie his hair into a ponytail, wishing he still had his sword so he could just cut it off. Long hair certainly had no place in the midst of such weather.

He wondered if the ponytail made him look more like a samurai, but with that thought came an old twinge of bitterness, so he shoved it away.

Gazing around at the remote plains, for it seemed that was all he could do, Kichisaburo tried to formulate an explanation as to why the weather had been acting peculiar, but he couldn't come up with any. He wondered if it was normal around here, and if it was only him who thought it unusual.

After all, he never really had the chance to explore the outdoors, he was understandably accustomed to more lavish surroundings indoors. Though he did venture out for a spot of sightseeing here and there…He laughed out loud at his misstatement, sightseeing indeed.

It was of course, in the shadows that he relished in his ultimate attraction. Killing….slaying…murdering… however you wanted to put it. This pastime gave him no time to notice even the glittering mass of stars overhead, not that he ever looked up at them. He had never been one for nature. Not since he was a small child. But now, as he desperately looked around, the irony of his surroundings was enough to make him scream. As of this moment though, he was too weak even for that.

-------

"Damn those Mibu ronin."

A rancour smell purged the smoky remains of a once grand temple, as an annoyed and heavily draped man surveyed the debris. "I can't believe they evaded my eight element battle formation," he muttered to himself, his kohl outlined eyes livid at how he had been beaten.

"They were supposed to go mad…"

He nudged at the rubble, causing the ashes to rise. He ignored the soot and thought instead of what an unfortunate death the nobleman and his lover had escaped in.

"But in the end it was only them who succumbed to madness…"

Shaking his head, he retreated from the place that now held the aura of a cemetery, and with it he left behind the purpose he had served whilst staying there."I hope you will find peace in the after world, my Lord. And you as well Kichisaburo." he thought as he walked away. "Although I highly doubt you will."

The faint purring of a cat could be heard as silence fell upon the old ruins again.

_-------_

"Atchoo!"

Frowning, Kichisaburo looked back at his former path.

The road was clouded by patches of blowing sand, and for some reason it brought relief to him that he could not see what he had left behind him. He had planned to get as far away as he could from Kyoto and its dreamless nights. Away from Yogatoya, where he made a living fulfilling the pleasures of men, whether carnal, or murderous. He had slain so many people in those familiar alleyways around the place that had been his home, that he could always smell blood, no matter where he was.

It wasn't a bother, for it was something he relished.

In the last few weeks though, he had wanted to get away. And although the fire had nearly killed him, it had been the perfect excuse to leave. It wasn't as if he owed his Yogatoya anything; he had brought in more money than they had ever expected from him. And so, he was retreating as far away as he could from the place that had been all he had ever known since he was five years old.

And also, away from Mibu, where he had been employed to impersonate the Shinsengumi Captain, Souji Okita. He had envied the man, so much so, that he would have absolutely delighted in killing him. And perhaps he would have, if that irritating Vice commander hadn't stepped in front of him that fateful night of the fire.

The protectiveness he showed towards the younger man had only fired Kichisaburo's jealousy. How lucky it was, to have someone care for you that way. And of course, the man had been quite a looker. That had raised his jealousy a notch, though he didn't know if they were involved that way or not. Either way, he certainly didn't care. He had nothing to do with the Shinsengumi anymore, they were sure to think he was dead now.

As far as Kichisaburo was concerned, he had burned to death with the Lord in his estate. In Kyoto, he was dead. There would be no going back.

He smirked at the hazy memory of 'His Lordship' engulfed in the flickering flames. He had already started to forget about their encounter, like all his clients, yet he couldn't help but feel some pity for the unbalanced Maru.The man was after all the first being to sacrifice his life for him. In such a long time, a voice in his head added.

The more Kichisaburo dwelled upon the incident the more conflicted he felt. His eyes never left the arid landscape as he struggled to keep his emotions at bay, remembering the other who had once done the exact thing. To him it seemed a long, long time ago, yet he knew it had only been a few years.

Kichisaburo reached over and broke a wheat stalk, toying with it.

His vision blurred as the wheat was crushed in his palm. And these days, when he thought of her gaze, all he saw was scarlet….

_I've cheated death twice._

He wasn't one for a premature death, never had been. But it wasn't as if that had ever been in his hands.

Refusing to dwell on the unwelcome reminders, Kichisaburo trudged back onto the road. His stomach grumbled, he bet he looked as undernourished as any stray around Kyoto. The comparison made him huff, as he futilely attempted to smooth out his bangs.

Kichisaburo, also known as a beautiful creature to most men, didn't even want to think about the state of his dress, let alone look at it. Hoping to find shelter before sunset, he trekked onwards, his dry throat reminding him that if he didn't find water soon, his body would fail him before his mind would. Grumbling, he thought of the more harmless peasants he recently passed, instead of gloating at how they gawked at him, he should have at least asked for some food.

The long and winding dirt road didn't seem to end, and having nothing to lose, he followed it.

---------


	2. Two

_Disclaimer: We don't own Peacemaker. Peacemaker owns us. _

**CHAPTER TWO**

--15 years earlier--

Trudging through a narrow alley way, a little boy struggles to keep up with the firefly spiralling ahead of him. There is an aura about him considered strange in these parts of the city. It is not his diminutive stature but the innocence displayed on his features. For this is a place known for its moral pollution.

Shady looking men on street corners leer at the young boy as he moves past, but sensing who is at his side, they leave him alone. He sees darkness in their eyes, at an age where he is still too young to understand what corruption and desperation mean.

The world he is destined or damned for is one where questions go unanswered and answers go unquestioned.

He is oblivious to what awaits him, for now like any other child he is intrigued by the simplest of things- shattered clay littering the pathway…He glances at the empty night sky and wonders why all the stars have fallen. He does not know that in a few days he'll become used to the sight, he will find it fitting. But for now the remnants of sake bottles are fragments of fallen stars, in his eyes.

Perhaps they are, and people tend not to see things through a child's point of view.

The firefly's light flickers impatiently, and remembering his grandfather's stern order, he quickens his pace. He follows the firefly into a narrow lane of cherry blossom trees, where petals aimlessly shower the ground. The little boy tries to avoid the petals, but fails to. He runs from the overpowering scent and catches up to the firefly.

He is laughing now.

The firefly, in fact, is a rusted lantern held by a man as elusive as his shadow, but this does not stop the boy from imagining.

His giggles are as insignificant as the wind carrying it, perhaps it wouldn't have seemed so to the shadow, if he knew that it is the first time in quite a while the boy has heard his own laughter.

He stops uncertainly and peers upwards at the magnificent building he has come to, not intimidated by the display of wealth, but more of the laughter and noise coming from within. The doors are flung open and garish music comes bursting out, as well as two drunk men, leaning on each other for support. The doors are closed and the men collapse on the floor reeking of alcohol, now unconscious…

The boy is lead gently by the shadow, who finally feels a tinge of pity for his fate.

At the back of the compound, the rusted lantern glowing by his side, the boy is left alone.

In his confusion, he begins to tremble and forgets that the light was ever a firefly, for now unlike any other child he is going to be exposed to the side of life he could have never been prepared for. The lantern begins to dim, the darkness and music overcome him, with the golden glow fading into nothingness - just like the firefly it was imagined to be.

He doesn't notice the darkness. He shuts his eyes tightly against the outside world, as though he can just will it away. As though it is that simple.

**-------**

_Ain't it funny how we pretend we're still a child_

_Softly stolen under our blanket skies_

_And rescue me from me, and all that I believe_

_I won't deny the pain_

_I won't deny the change_

_And should I fall from grace…_

_Will you leave me too?_

_Too late to turn to turn back now_

_I'm running out of sound…_

_And I'm changing, changing…_

_Ain't it funny how we pretend we're still a child_

**--------**

"Damn. I'm still here."

Lying with his back pressed against the rugged furrows of a broad tree trunk, Kichisaburo groggily opened his eyes to the blinding light of the sun, and realised the events of the past two days had not been part of his dream. He rubbed his face and yawned loudly, before realising in great dismay, that his hands were still stained with dirt.

The previous night he had attempted to drink water from a half dry stream, which ended up with him slipping and falling in the mud. At least he hoped it was mud…He glanced down at his yukata and frowned, it was still caked with the muck. He looked absolutely filthy. Sighing, he leaned further back against the tree, too frustrated to start moving right away.

Fingering the singed hems of his clothing, he closed his eyes once more at an attempt to recall the dream that he had.

It had been so long since he had last dreamed. It wasn't as though he had time to, though the lack of it was something he welcomed gladly. The dreams he had for two years after the shattering, were recurring nightmares that strangled him in his sleep, choked him till he woke up screaming.

He never cried, and he knew the old man in particular, had wished he would. But screaming was better. With screaming, you could turn your fear into rage. You could feed your hate. Give it energy. And it would sustain you through another day.

Kichisaburo put a hand to his aching head. He could vaguely remember a wavering light, drunken voices, and amongst other things, a black, empty sky.

As it gradually pieced together in his mind, and the pictures became clearer, his body stiffened slightly. _Why? Why am I dreaming of my past? It's been so many years since that day..._

A grumble from his stomach interrupted his thoughts and sighing, he let his eyes wander over to the dirt road. _I'm not going to think about any of it. I left it behind, it's over. There are more important things to think about._

He still needed to get to a village, he needed food and clean water…And staring down at his bruised feet, some sandals at the very least. _If only I still had my sword, and there was someone around,_ he thought wistfully as he struggled to get up_. Then I could kill them and steal their money and food._

A sadistic smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, as he considered this rather refreshing thought. He wasn't worried about providing for himself after all. Even without his sword, there were other ways of getting money. After all, once his basic necessities were fulfilled, he had to purchase a sword again, he didn't care what the cost would be.

He couldn't imagine going without killing for too long.

Kichisaburo raked a hand through his matted locks, squinting at the unchanging road before him, and sighing irritably, started walking.

--------

In a place not so far from Kyoto, an old man waited, taking long drags on his pipe as he did so. He seemed like any other bald and senile man, wistfully remembering the 'old days', but he wasn't referring only to himself. His gaze was nostalgiac, piercing through a fog of smoke as he gave his whereabouts a look over.

The moss and lichen covering the walls of the compound seemed to almost sweat, under the heat. The path to the entrance was adorned in cracks, as intricate as a piece of mosaic. Weeds choked flowerbeds, in the once green gardens.

Overhead the towering archway seemed to stand in defeat, its once splendid coat of red had peeled away to reveal a horde of busy termites. Even the few remaining cherry blossom trees had lost their beauty, their trunks withered and their branches swaying lifelessly.

The aged man did not react to the decay before him; there was no shaking of the head, no expression of disgust. For he was not living in this reality, but a reality made entirely of fading memories, as most old people do. He shook his head slightly, no one now would imagine or even believe this ghost of a place to have once been home to creatures of the night, so damned in their beauty that people said even hell itself spat them out.

No one would listen if he spoke of courtesans that evoked jealously even amongst the geishas of Gion, or of kabuki actors that outshined even the night stars. _But that was all once upon a time…_ a voice added in his head. His shoulders slumped, and he looked down at his outstretched palms wonderingly, like the night when everything had been destroyed.

He had known it was all over for him when he had seen her mutilated body laid out before him. And the child...

They said he had played a role in it. And perhaps he had. He had let himself keep a heart within a trade that had no place for hearts. So he was guilty of caring for those kids. They were already exposed to enough ugliness, he figured they didn't need more of it from him. He remembered the others hissing at him, 'They're lucky they have this much.'

And it was true, he had rescued many of them from lives that would have been far worse out on the streets. At least with him, they had food, clean clothes, a roof over their heads, and considerable safety.

_Considerable..._The old man let out a slow sigh.

He was no longer Ichirawa Chubei, creator of the closest thing a man could get to paradise, at least, pleasure wise. He was now known not even by his name, but as the man who created the closest thing you can get to hell. _And there was once a time when I was asked to every play in Kyoto…_Another bitter sigh came from within him.

Now society looked at this district with a certain apprehensiveness that would probably never wane. As though they sensed that buried underneath the years that had passed, there was the story of how even the most sparkling of diamonds can be cruelly stripped of their lustre.

But what might _seem_ to be an insignificant life to some can be one of most importance to another. Sometimes what seems the most worthless of lives, have had some worth if they have touched another's heart. Even if it is only one. _But no one cared then and now about what goes on behind closed curtains..._

Chubei sighed yet again as he filled his pipe with tobacco, whilst holding back a fit of coughs. Stroking his beard, he mused over the news that had reached him about one of his best boys, and the details of his demise. He had never been one to blame himself for anything that happened beyond the doors of his pleasure house.

But over the years there had only been one person that he had felt secret guilt over, apart from her. And that was Kichisaburo.

_I am not a fool though._

Chubei had known the young lad long enough to realise that he wouldn't leave the world in such a futile way.

_I hope the stars shine for you on the darkest of nights…_He had lost faith in just about everything before he had even lost his hair. But he still had some small amount left for that eccentric kid with traits that amused him to no end.

Even after all that had happened, Chubei still waited at the entrance --- for what, not even he knew --- comforted by reminders of what had once been a fairy tale, despite the unhappy ending.


	3. Three

_Disclaimer: Of course Peacemaker doesn't belong to us. It belongs to the powers that be._

**CHAPTER THREE**

The atmosphere is thick with excitement, as visitors of all status jostle around, keen on quenching their thirst for lust. Overhead the cherry trees sway gracefully, unaffected by the commotion below, their petals dancing as they swirl and spiral through the air...

Only to be trampled on by the crowd, the stench of alcohol overcoming their sweet fragrance.

The painted faces of women peer sadly from behind silk curtains at the sight of delicate petals crushed under the feet of these men. They can't help but smile at the irony. Their resplendent eyes focus on the stares of those who begin to look up at them, and slowly they turn away.

They don't see the lone petal that has managed to rise up in a swirl of dust towards an open window. The pale petal has not yet reached the skies before it is stopped by the sweep of a branch. It is almost as if nature itself is imitating the unspoken truth about this dreamlike realm--- once you have fallen, it is almost always useless to try and rise again.

The petal is unfazed as it drifts back amongst the bustling congregation, much like those before a temple. But here, different gods are worshipped and envied.

It floats through a courtyard of mirth, past rooms of passion, behind a box of cracked masks, into restless corridors, up a winding staircase, and through a crack into a forgotten room.

The exhausted petal falls onto a quivering palm.

The palm belongs to a little boy who is shivering, despite being wrapped in a blanket. Roars of laughter and the twangs of a shamisen reach the dark corner and each time it does, the child withdraws further under the wardrobe and into himself, until he no longer lingers there on the wooden boards, but somewhere in the depths of his mind.

Amidst the blurry memories of a sparse childhood. A childhood he is unconsiously leaving, at an age where children begin to relish in it.

He exhales shakily and closes his eyes, trying to comfort himself as children do when situations become too complex. Like most he fails.

He rocks back and forth, wondering what he has done to his family to deserve this abandonment by them. His family...The little boy fingers the hem of his yukata and recalls painful snippets of conversations already swallowed by time.

"Our Sakura is gone... why her and not him!"

"..Gaki! What are you standing here for? Go and fetch water."

"He's such a puny and weak looking child... a disgrace to his samurai heritage..."

He desperately puts his fingers in his ears, trying to ward off all the voices and faces spinning around in his head. His family, despite the way they treated him, will take him back from this strange place, he knows they will. They have to...they are all he has.

--------

The twinkling of elaborate hair ornaments can be heard as a shimmering girl glides down a carpeted passageway. She abruptly stops, just in time, before a puddle of spilt sake. A sigh is released from rouged lips, her slender hands lifting the many layers of kimono as she tiptoes around the mess, taking care not to stain her garment.

The hallway looming before her is richly furnished, too exquisite for her likes, but enough for the visitors. _The visitors..._She nibbles on almond shaped nails as she wonders whether she should enter her usual gathering or...

She turns her head to meet darkness in the form of an aisle.

She smiles almost cheekily as she makes a quick decision and the swift rustle of silk accompanying it prompts a man to impatiently slide open the shoji. He blinks.

A cloud of perfume greets him, and nothing else. Annoyed, he slides the door shut again.

Her choice, though she doesn't know it yet, has unerringly altered the threads of fate in a way she will never imagine.

For now, she steers through mazes of debilitated corridors, as skillfully as a sea captain whose knowledge of the oceans go beyound that of maps. Her surroundings become darker and darker with each step, but not as dark as that hidden void within her. Within all of them.

As she drifts further away from everyone, hallways become pathways into enchanted forests and her laughter is the tune to which she sways. From afar, she's like a doll puppet, attached to gossamer strings that quietly restrain her every move--- her chains.

Feeling a little giddy, she supports herself against a wall covered in a layers of dust. People won't believe her if she tells them she prefers this dingy place to her spacious quarters, but then again people won't listen even if she proclaims that the ground sparkles with fallen stars. Most of the women are too envious to actually want to speak to her.

She really wishes they wouldn't envy her so. Sometimes, she wishes for a real friend. But everyone here is a rival. Everyone wants to make more money than the next. Everyone wants to be the star.

The girl rests her head against the wall and breathes in the musty scent.

She must have been breathing hard for the dust disappears to reveal a carving. Moving her arm away, her fingers trace over the engraved lines; slowly and wonderingly.

She peers closer and sees something that willl always be etched into her memory, just as it is etched into the plaster. Despite the crudeness of the carving, she can make out a couple in embrace, above a full moon and down below, the vines entwining them together.

Their faint expressions betray their undying love, for she is sure that's what it is. Her own expression becomes wistful. It wasn't as if she had never seen ink prints and woodblocks before, she had even posed for some, but this seems different...

She wonders why such a sight can evoke so much feeling within her and why the engraved moon is oddly illuminated. _Perhaps my head is going funny_...She grins. _If it is not already..._

Smiling sadly, she tries to picture herself in that embrace, but as hard as she tries she can't. So instead she just forlornly gazes at the wall, as if trying to suck it's warmth into her chilled bones.

As she peers closer, a sudden draught surprises her, and she moves back, astonished. She puts a hand to her mouth and lets out a giggle as she realises what is going on. With great interest, she scrutinises the tiny moon, noticing now that a hole was made there intentionally, so that the moon outside could be caught in the carving.

Far off voices reach her ears then, reminding her where she is.

Turning her back, she reluctantly walks away from the lovesick couple immortalized in time along with the essence of passion. She repeats to herself the key rule she and the others abide by here. To play at love, but never, never to allow oneself to feel it, for that is where disaster lies.

_And that is why that picture can never apply to me_, she thinks a little bitterly as she leaves the corridor, embracing the darkness of the next.

Wind whistles through the hole and covers the art with another layer of dust, and patiently it waits, for the next time it will be discovered.

--------

He closes his eyes and tries to imagine the day they will come back for him, but as hard as he tries, he just can't picture it.

Anxiously he looks around, before he comes crawling out of his hiding place, intrigued by a thin layer of dust covering the floor. Disappointed that he can't see his reflection, he uses the dust for a different purpose, he wants to trace his family. The dust curls upwards as he draws them coming for him, just like he hopes but can't picture.

Although he finishes the picture, his finger remains at the spot where a mother should be. He blanches suddenly, causing his fist to release the pink petal, which for a moment hovers over the dusty sketch. The little boy realises it has settled in the middle of the dirt portrait--- right where he has planned to draw a mother.

With a painful jolt, it finally makes sense to him and he stares in horror at the petal, and the room spins before him. He feels like he is trapped inside a top of unwanted images, and lets out a startled cry.

His family has despised him from the begining and he can't deny it any longer, the memories finally flooding him.

He sees a man, holding a woman's kimono, the fabric a creamy colour and decorated with sakura petals. The man cries, and he is quickly picked up from the hallway and ordered never to go near the room again. He sees himself, grasping an older boy's yukata, only to be pushed away and left alone.

In front of a courtyard with burning cherry trees. Falling petals becoming falling ash. A man, standing to the side, shaking. Face twisted in anger.

He never understood what it was that caused the man he knew was his father to do that. The one whose room was forbidden territory. He faintly remembers that day, when he had toddled over to him and raised his arms, wanting to be held. Longing to be held. And because of him, the trees had burned. When he had gone to sleep, he had thought he could hear them crying.

After that experience, he had never gone near the man again, he was too frightened.

And he never wanted to be held by anyone again, not that anyone had ever tried.

Salty droplets stain his face, falling on the floor like rain and his family drown under his tears. The little boy shakes under the weight of them, they have never felt so heavy...

_I killed her...my mommy...she's dead..._

It repeats through his head, echoing what he has always heard since he became old enough to remember.

Quaking sobs echo through the room as he makes himself understand why he is left here, it is because he killed his mother, the lady his father considered his life, and he can't' deny it any longer, he can't escape the truth of the matter, that his family will never claim him. That they have already forgotten him.

He withdraws under the wardrobe once more, wrapped in his blanket...the blanket a womb and he the rotting foetus, clinging onto a fractured childhood.

To see the world through a child's eyes is said to be blissful, but that depends on the child, and this one is an exception.

He is crying tears that he should not have to shed. He does not understand that the lady he believes he killed passed away giving birth to him, something that was not his fault. Since no one took the effort to explain this to him, he carries the agonising burden of guilt, when most kids his age only carry sweets...

A gentle breeze lifts the petal drenched in his tears, and slowly, it sails back through the crack, leaving the little boy alone in the room.

-------

She reaches the last step and leans against the wall to catch her breath.

In doing so she crushes her intricately folded obi knot. _Maybe I should just tie it in front of me like expected,_ she thinks. She doesn't deny it makes her job harder to tie it the way she does, and after all their obi knots are meant to distinguish them from geisha and other women. Despite her trade though, she still refuses to tie it in the front, and _mark_ herself as she puts it. That's what makes her different from the other women, a part of her still clings to self-respect.

She smiles suddenly as she realises she's in the boys quarters, away from the source of her troubled thoughts.

Glancing around to see if no one is watching, she gathers up her kimono and starts to skip, albeit a little heavily, under the weight of all that material. She giggles, and it's not forced, this is what she loves about the boys quarters, she can just relax around here.

No need to think about the looks on her clients faces if they saw her prancing about like a little girl, or how her rival Rozu would smugly wrinkle up her nose, muttering 'immature' under her breath. Even though Chubei told her it was futile, he hadn't specifically said she couldn't go there...Of course, she had known and he had known, that she wouldn't have any time anyway. But occasionally...

She turns her head just in time to see a cherry petal floating past her ornate locks and landing gently on the floor. She stops and slowly bends over to pick it up, noticing the moisture as she rolls it between her fingers. Oddly, she thinks of tears.

Gracefully letting go, she expects it to continue on it's journey, but it doesn't. The petal lands on the floor at her feet, and does not rise.

Looking up, she hears teasing voices coming from the room to her right. Slightly abashed, she gathers her kimono and tries to tiptoe past, but the voices become louder with each step. She knows its not her place to question what went on behind the screen doors, but the laughter sounds oddly familiar. Laughter she has not heard in a long time...

A faint memory of clouds occupies her mind as she quickly slides open the shoji, yelling childlike, "Taizo! Taizi!"

Two lanky young men jump at the same time. They look more confused than embarrassed, especially at hearing a woman's voice here.

She raises her eyebrows. It seems as though they are hiding something behind them. She twists from side to side, trying to see what it is, while they move closer together so she won't see. They look alike, and though she could always tell them apart when they were younger, their similiarity is making her dizzy so she stops, and instead, smiles at them eagerly.

It has been a long time after all. She has turned into a woman, and they into men. Yet it feels like only yesterday to her, and she wonders why they don't return the smile.

"Uh..." began the taller of the two sheepishly, "Do we know you?"

Seeing her smile falter, the other, who has been peering at her intently, nudges his brother. "I think we do."

Taizo squinted at the girl. "Yeah...come to think of it, she does look familiar...but I'm not sure..."

"You moron, look at her eyes."

His brother was indignant. "I knew all along." He blusters. "I was just pretending. _You're_ the moron."

"You knew?" Taizi laughs, shaking his head. "Then why were you acting like such a dumbass? Oh wait, I forget. That's _normal _for you."

"Hey!"

The young woman, who was holding her eyes wide open so the brothers can see better, now rolls them.

_Some things never change_, she thinks, amused as she watches them bicker. Finally, she clears her throat. "Ahem. You have to know me. Don't you remember all those afternoons we spent together in the back garden? When we'd lie on the grass and stare up at the sky..." Her voice quavers now, and she can't finish her sentence. She feels embarrassed at becoming so unexpectedly emotional, looking down at the floor, but Taizi's gentle voice makes her look up again.

"Pretending all the clouds were animals and things, right?"

"And there was that fat one that looked so much like Chubei," cust in Taizo, grinning. "Sure, I remember."

She can't help it, she has to laugh. Then there was a blur of colour as she practically flings herself at them, so forcefully they nearly lose their balance. They hug each other tightly, the three of them, like a happier repeat of that day when they were forced to part, when they felt as though the sky had come crashing down on them.

Then they drew back, and there was a momentary silence.

"It's been ages," says Taizo at last. "We missed you like hell when you were gone."

"I know. So did I. A lot has changed but," She swallows. "I'm mostly happy." She gives them a bright smile.

Taizi looks sceptical. "I can still read your eyes. And they don't seem happy to me. But hey, can't complan right?"

She nods. "That's true."

Unknown to her, the brothers are secretely awed by how much she has changed from the scrawny little girl she once was. Now they know why she is Chubei's favourite. She is lovely to them, not only on the inside, but also on the outside. But it was this growing beauty that had played a role in their separation.

A blessing and a curse, thinks Taizi as he watches her joke with his twin. He feels a sense of contentment being around her, feels as though he can bask in this moment forever. Suddenly, at just the moment when they all stopped talking, a whimper sounds through the room. The brothers look at each other nervously.

She raises an elegant eyebrow as they immediately stand in front of her again, shielding her view of the wardrobe. "What was that?"

"That?" says Taizo, laughing an extremely fake laugh. "Er, that was just my stomach!" He patted it fondly. "I've gotta go eat, I'm starved."

Another whimper follows. And then another. Her eyes widen. "Why, it's a child!" she exclaims in surprise, pushing them apart and bending over to see. The child, small enough to fit in the space underneath the wardrobe, is wrapped in a blanket that seems too big for him. His hands are shielding his face.

She looks at him in astonishment, then twirls back to face the twins, her face suddenly angry. "Don't tell me you two have turned into bullies!" She looks truly furious, and they back away from her. Taizi frantically waves his hands in front of him. "No, no, we weren't bullying him!"

"We were just laughing at him," Taizo blurts out in his enthusiasm to properly explain the situation. A swift nudge in the ribs from his brother shuts him up.

"No, we were just looking for someone and found him here, honestly," said Taizi weakly.

She is just about to inform them that she hasn't lost her habit of tweaking their ears, when they are interrupted by a loud and shouting voice. She rolls her eyes, she knows who it is. Unfortunately, Chubei wasn't the only person who ran this place.

"Right," says Taizi. 'That's our cue to head back then.' Unable to look her in the eye, he moves past her, heading for the corridor. 'Bye then.'

'Duty calls!' adds Taizo jokingly.

"Wait," she says, looking a little offended, "Don't you want to meet again?"

"Don't worry, we can find you," Taizo replies. "Now that we know you're still here. You know, they told us you were taken somewhere else." His eyes flashed in brief anger. "Got us to stop looking..."

"That's exactly what they told me!" she exclaims, her own temper flaring. "The nerve!"

"Anyway," interrupts Taizi quickly, "The skies have been filled with many clouds lately..." He winks. "So what do you say? Next week, same day as always?"

She gives them a radiant smile. "Of course! But before you go..." She turns back to the now still child, and asks quietly, "So he is...?"

"Oh...the new one looks like."

She nods. Of course she'd known about another addition to their place, she always knew. She just hadn't found the time to seek him out, like she does all the others.

She turns, and swallowing, peers closer at the child, half wondering, half wishing...His bangs are matted to his forehead, his eyes are tightly shut, and he looks like a wounded animal.

She is a little disappointed. _It's not him...He is too old..._

She turns around to find the twins gone, she is momentarily sad, but remembers they will meet again. She kneels down, then presses her face sideways against the floor, so they are eye to eye except his are still closed. She wonders why he is so scared, so she waits there, waits until he has stopped trembling so hard.

He hears a sweet humming tune and the scent of lavender wafts under his nose.

Slowly he opens his eyes to see a doll staring at him. No it wasn't a doll, it was a girl. Her lips are red as though she had just finished sucking on red candy. He smiles wistfully at the thought of having some candy and his stomach grumbles.

"I bet you're starving," she says sympathetically.

Her painted eyelids are still closed yet her lips moved, his ears have never heard such a pleasant and gentle voice, so different from when she was talking before. He wonders briefly if she is an angel, then remembers where he is. This loud, noisy place that his young mind still doesn't understand. _Angels wouldn't live here_, he thinks.

Noticing the way he is still trembling, and how small he is, she feels sorry for him. Brushing a hand lightly against his shoulder, she tries to comfort him. To her suprise the boy opens his eyes and they seem calm, despite his state she feels as though she is peering into the eyes of an old man not those of a little boy.

She smiles and gently extends her hand. "Hello there. My name is Kaiyoumi."

The boy blinks at her. The suddenly his violet orbs widen.

Her eyes...they are so...

His mind is bubbling as slowly, tentatively, he grasps her hand. He feels strange, as though he is leaving everything behind, this room, his thoughts of family, everything...

Her eyes are the most beautiful colour he has ever seen.

-------

_Take me down to the underground_

_Won't you take me down to the underground_

_Why oh why there is no light_

_And if I can't sleep can you hold my life_

_And all I see is you_

_Take my hand, I lost where I began_

_In my heart, I know all of my faults_

_Will you help me understand_

_And all I see is you..._

--------

The dirt road ahead of him had green patches of grass growing in the middle, and Kichisaburo's eyes were grateful for the change of colour.

He sighed in relief as his bruised feet came upon the softness. Looking around, the murky colours were nothing but specks now in the green company which was good, he would be at a village soon... He started to pick up a few pebbles to throw across the road. Knowing now that he was so close, he was beginning to feel more restless than before.

As he bent down again, he felt something poke him--- it was his old fan. He used it to shield his eyes as he observed the area to his right, making out a figure with arms outstretched, just standing in the middle of the field. He raised his eyebrows, and his mouth twitched in annoyance.

"He seems to be enjoying the weather."

He shut his fan, and as he did, a petal gracefully fell from it's edges, he saw it out of the corner of his eye. A spot of pink danced amongst the drab background, and Kichisaburo's eyes widened as a memory briefly flashed before him.

For a minute he seemed frozen in time, unable to move, then he regained his senses and angrily scuffed the petal into the grass.

Satisfied with it out of sight, he wiped his face for a moment, before starting off towards the outstretched figure.

Slowly and surely, the petal drifted upwards and burned from the heat, and the wind scattered the dust into the stretching sky.

--------


	4. Four

_Disclaimer: Peacemaker is the property of Nanae Chrono, and not the fairies._

**CHAPTER FOUR**

"Hey! Hey you!"

Kichisaburo's annoyed voice echoed across the stretching fields, answered only by the shrill caws of crows and the gentle rustling of wheat. The blue powdered skies were cloudless and it seemed as though nothing today could hide the blinding sun. The heat itself was unbearable, and Kichisaburo was in a decisively bad mood.

A figure stood idly by in the middle of the wheat, looking as though he were admiring the barren scenery, oblivious to the shouts of a swordless vagabond bearing angry blisters.

"Hey, why won't you look over here you retard!"

This was not the time to be courteous, Kichisaburo thought, looking incensed as he waved his arm, ignoring the strain since it seemed he had finally found civilisation. "Thank Kami anyway," he muttered, sweeping back his fringe as he trudged towards his target. "Finally, someone to possibly rob and kill."

Pausing to take a deep breath, Kichisaburo glanced around before allowing his tired legs to buckle beneath him. Then began to crawl towards the outstretched figure, for he was far too tired now to walk. Finally, he came to a halt.

Curious, he glanced up to find himself face to face with a weatherbeaten pole. His gaze slowly continued upwards and he found that the wooden pole happened to be covered by an indigo kimono--and then---"Kuso!"

Kichisaburo swore loudly as he got to his feet.

The figure with the outstretched arms hadn't been a man at all! In fact, he wasn't even human. He'd been a scarecrow, with a pitiful excuse for a painted face. Kichisaburo leaned against the stuffed body of hay, looking tired, embarrassed and defeated.

"I really need to eat," he uttered miserably as his vision swayed. "But if there's a scarecrow here, then than there has to be a house..."

Kichisaburo studied the worn out thing, looking suddenly thoughtful. "That's actually a really nice kimono you've got there Scarecrow-san," he said smoothly, hands on hips. "I'm sure you wouldn't mind if we exchange. After all, you're the one with the ugly face. Things like that can't be helped, ne?"

Letting out a derisive snort, he began peeling off his own tattered yukata. Neatly folding his obi at the base of the scarecrow, and relishing the warmth of the sun on his pale skin, Kichisaburo started to tug on the scarecrow's clothing.

-------

Sipping at her sake and looking around with an irritable expression on her sagging face, old lady Hisako rolled her tiny eyes as she surveyed the interior of her house. It was time for her to start cleaning, and that was never easy, nor enjoyable.

Finally putting down her cup, Hisako stood up rather heavily, on account of her growing obesity.

Straightening the edge of her hakama, she hobbled towards the window and peered out at her glorious fields of wheat and produce, although she was certainly exaggerating the glorious part. The seasons had not been kind to her lately, and with each day her irritation grew.

"Maybe if that baka hadn't run off..." she muttered angrily, referring to the son she blamed on a regular basis for all her bad luck, "I wouldn't be in that state I am now."

Reaching for her cup again, she was about to down more of the blissful clear drink, when something out in the fields caught her attention. Slowly putting the drink down, she pushed back the tattered curtains and squinted in the direction of her scarecrow.

Her brow furrowed, adding more lines to her already lined face.

"What in the worlds..."

------

"Get off me, you damn birds!" Kichisaburo hollered, waving his arms over his head in a futile attempt to ward them off.

It was so irritating! Just a moment before, he could have sworn there were no crows near the place. Nor any other living thing. But as soon as he had pulled the kimono half way off, revealing the hay--there they were.

When finally they gave up and flew away, he pulled off the yukata with such determination he nearly caused himself to fall over. As he ran his hands over the fabric, a faint yelling invaded his hearing. A look of relief came over him. Finally, a voice! Kichisaburo couldn't remember ever feeling so happy at hearing a man's voice.

Then he realised the voice sounded extremely angry, and the man was brandishing something of a weapon. Patiently, he waited for the very chubby stranger to come closer. Out of instinct, a hand reached up to smooth his hair.

"You filthy beggar!" screamed the approaching man, swinging the sword drunkenly. "Gerroff my property!"

_Why, I never_...thought Kichisaburo, indignant. _A...beggar...!_

He'd been called many things in his life, but a beggar was definitely not one of them.As the stranger came closer, and some of the bulges became more apparent, Kichisaburo was shocked to realise 'he' was actually a 'she', and almost got hit as she swung what looked like a sheath at him.

Kichisaburo ducked just in time, and the lady fell over, almost losing her grip on the katana. "Right!" she said heatedly, her face bright red as she climbed back up. "I'm going to show you what I do to people who trespass!"

She unsheathed the sword. Kichisaburo grinned.

The sword, surprisingly polished and without any nicks, gleamed beautifully in the sun, and on it's metallic surface, he could see his eyes glint in familiarity.The wind gently rustled the wheat and he smelled the faint scent of blood as if the wind had carried the scent all the way from Kyoto.

"What are you smiling about?"

Hisako felt suspicious, and a little wary as she observed this strange man standing before her in his underwear. Was he a loon? Her eyes drift to the naked scarecrow. Her bad temper increased. "That's my property you've been vandalising! The yukata's mine! Give it back, beggar!"

Kichisaburo stared at the lady then at the kimono in his hands, the soft fabric a comfort to the blisters on his palms. "Nope, it's mine!" he answered in a childish voice, hugging it close to his chest. As he anticipated, the comment only made the old woman angrier.

With a loud yell, she charged forward with a parallel thrust, intended for Kichisaburo's chest. He looked bored.

_Honestly, this old hag is just asking for it. She looks half dead already, it's probably best I take her out of her misery. Being the gentleman that I am._

In one swift movement, he deftly moved aside, and grabbing the sword from her hands, slashed her across the shoulder. Hisako looked stunned as the blood spurted out from the gaping wound. "You..you actually..." she croaked, looking more surprised than pained. Before she could finish her sentence, Hisako crumpled in a heap on the ground.

"That was nice," sighed Kichisaburo, wiping the blood from his face. "Even if you were a woman. Nothing beats a good kill..." The familiar heaviness in his hands was soothing to him. He felt powerful, like he was in control again. There was no feeling helpless with a sword in your hands...

He whistled as he wrapped the scarecrow's kimono around him. As he dressed, he squinted hard in the direction that the woman had come from.

There's the house! he thought excitedly. How could I have missed it before!

After having a good meal, and maybe a long bath, he would start walking again. He was sure he was near a village now, there was no way the old lady would live out here in the middle of nowhere. "I'm going to have to bury the body too," he muttered as he finished tying his obi. "But all in all..." He smirked. "This has been a reallly productive day."

Clothing _and _a sword. Kichisaburo turned to pick the weapon up from the ground.

Then, just as his fingers reached the hilt, a gasp startled him.

Surprised, he realised the lady was still alive, her face turned towards him, her eyes questioning as they bore right through him.

"Why?" she whispered, her life rapidly fading.

Kichisaburo froze.

His vision blurred and unsteadily, he raised a hand to his head.

-------

"Why?"

Kaiyoumi blinks.

She is not only startled by the question, but by the seriousness in his voice. The way he has suddenly changed from bumbling to world weary. In an instant. She blinks rapidly, lowering her sooty eyelashes. So he has answered her question with one of his own. She should have known.

Since when have questions been properly answered in this veiled world? Her gaze trails across the stacked piles of ink spattered documents, past the slim pipe resting between his stained fingers, above the curling cloud of smoke, and settles on the window sill.

The cherry trees are obscured by a curtain of grey mist, and their sweet fragrance mingles with the stale stench of opium and tobacco.

"Kaiyoumi?"

His voice tries to evade the empty core of her thoughts. Kaiyoumi sighs softly and watches a sparrow flit through the pink blossoms, before settling on a spindly branch. Then the branch shakes and in a flurry of pale petals, it is gone. For some reason, she feels a pang unlike any other.

"Kaiyoumi!"

His voice is not harsh, but laced with a certain concern attained only after knowing the real truth behind closed shutters. He stares at her, half bent as he stands over his cluttered desk, fingers pressing against the varnished wood. A sigh escapes his slightly rouged lips. "What are you thinking?"

She forces a polished smile. A practised routine of perfection. His respondent tone bothers her. In this realm empathy has been cruelly stripped of all meaning. So why this concern?

"Thinking? Don't be silly Chubei, since when do we need to think? We just drift with the current, that's what we do." Kaiyoumi flourishes her palm, from beneath a silken sleeve, slender fingers poised gracefully in midair.

Chubei chuckles as her gesture is one that is often exaggerated in his seductive plays.The lines between his forehead cease to exist for a moment, and he sits back down, his gaze less weary than a moment before. "So aren't you going to answer my question?" He leans forward, bushy eyebrows raised, exhaling tendrils of smoke.

Kaiyoumi looks down at the richly furnished carpet and silently wishes she was still standing in the abandoned corridors, in the presence of nothing else but dust.

"But you know, maybe I..."

She hesitantly turns her head, as if to acknowledge the small presence sitting behind her. "Maybe ..." Her speech wavers. She stands up suddenly, the layers of gauzy material rippling like the ocean's waves.The faint whistling of a flute can be heard in the background, perhaps a little girl practising, or perhaps it is just the wind sorrowful to be passing their way.

Chubei finds himself gazing up at her, filled with bittersweet awe at this ethereal creature he has forged, and for a terse moment he feels a startling desire to reach out to her, to lighten the dark void within her, but he finds he cannot.

_This must be how the gods feel when they look upon their creations...With more pain then pride._

Or maybe, he is just apprehensive. Afraid that if he touchs her, she will shatter...

"If you want to say no, you can say it," she says suddenly, her expression stoic. "I respect your decisions Chubei. Always." Kaiyoumi turns, and the little boy looks up at her, confused. He wonders why she seems upset. Hesitantly, he glances at the big round man standing before them. Did he make her upset. He doesn't look mean but he...

Chubei catches the boy's gaze for a moment, and grins at him. Quickly, the child turns away. Did the man just breathe smoke? He had been right. The man_ is _a dragon in disguise! He draws the blanket closer around him.

Kaiyoumi smiles, her hair ornaments shimmering in the sun. "Chubei, you've scared him already!" she scolds, eyes twinkling, despite the hurt beneath them.

"He hasn't met Oziki yet," mutters Chubei, barely audible but she hears.

Kaiyoumi claps a hand to her ruby red mouth, giggling. "Well that praying mantis scares just about everyone..." She twists her face, trying to imitate the other headman's sour expression but looks as sweet as ever. Chubei releases a hearty laugh, reminding the little boy of a paper balloon he once saw get pricked. Knowing that their conversation isn't going to end so soon, he makes his way towards the open window. A gust of fresh air greets him.

The little boy rubs his face and inhales deeply. Uncomfortable with an upfront view of cherry trees, he peers down on the dusty vacant streets. As he does so he can't help but remember his grandfather's remark on his departure.

_'Your new home is a place of eternal happiness..'_

He wonders if his grandfather lied, for he seemed to have passed only sad faces, but then---the little boy scratches his head---old people don't lie...

He strains his eyes trying to look for any sign of life on the dusty lane. He spots a fat tabby and a few dark shadows emerge form the cluster of identical buildings. Although he is quite fond of animals, it is the latter that intrigues him the most. A group of men dressed in dark clothing are leaning on each other for support, clay bottles clutched in their fists. Entranced the little boy watches their strange dance. For some reason, they remind him of crows..

He watches the dusty road swallow the happy crows and inhales the fresh air quite deeply before turning his back on the cherry trees.

Just as he turns he notices the girls hypnotic beads sway.

An indication of her leave. Then he hears her utter two words he has come to dislike... the same words his family had said to him as he was led away by the firefly.

"Goodbye then."

Kaiyoumi turns towards the shoji.

Then she remembers the tiny figure in the room. He hadn't made a sound when she started to leave, but his eyes were wide and scared. At that very moment, she feels a sudden urge to embrace him, but unsure of the boy and Chubei's reaction she doesn't.

Kaiyoumi thinks back to the previous night when she first met the child, and had asked him his name as she helped him out of his hiding place and returned him to the children's rooms. She had not received an answer.

Kaiyoumi had hoped that this morning he would have shown some response, spoken something---anything, to reassure her that he _could_ speak, that he was not mute.

Yet he had continued to glance up at her with those tired old eyes whenever he thought she wouldn't notice, eyes so startling in the face of a child, and she had been grateful that he had not shied away when she came for him.

"Don't worry, you're still coming with me," she says gently, offering him her hand. "I'll take you back, so you don't get lost, alright?"

Kaiyoumi slips her palm into his and they move towards the door.

Chubei watches them moving towards the shoji, feeling torn. Perhaps she was right. Maybe they were all just drifting within an unseen current. But if it brought two people together... He would be a fool to believe nothing happens for a reason. He scratches his bald scalp, he is sure he believes in destiny.

A part of him is saying that he should stay silent.

That he should just let them walk out of his office, and the boy will go back to his quarters, and the girl...well she will be upset for a while, but it is not like Kaiyoumi to dwell on things. Chubei is sure she will forget about it in a week, perhaps even in days... just like the other time... he grimaces and tips the remains of tobacco quite vigorously on his table surface.

But then, he cant argue with his heart. A dull crack echoes around the spacious room. His heart always won. Chubei glances down to find his pipe snapped in half. Maybe oneday he will suffer the consequences...but he isnt one to dwell on the future either.

"And if you _were _allowed to keep the boy?"

Kaiyoumi comes to a sudden halt. The hopeful glimmer in those eyes of hers made his heart wrench painfully.

Just like that fateful day he found her---dark hair tangled with seaweed, tiny particles of sand clinging to moist skin and the unforgettable scent of salt in her torn garments.

"Well..." Kaiyoumi swallows, heart racing. "Well, I do need an attendant, I think he'd be really helpful, and I...well I," Her voice has turned to a whisper. "I could help him too. Isn't a confident child better than a mute, scared one?"

Chubei is bought out of his musings as he silently regards her earnest words, twirling his fiery red moustache.

He looks the boy over, his presence so weak he seems to blend in with the painted thrushes on the wall. Maybe the girl had a point. After all, in all honesty, the boy is the most beautiful child he has seen since he had found Kaiyoumi...

"Alright."

Kaiyoumi's eyes widen. "You mean...You mean I can have him?" she asks almost breathlessly. She loosens her grip on the shoji's wooden frame. The little boy upon seeing Kaiyoumi move inside, follows gladly.

Chubei chuckles. "Well you can't have him," he says in a teasing voice, content in seeing the hurt in her eyes drift away. "But he can stay with you. Hmmm...I will have to make arrangements first...maybe in a week or two..."

Kaiyoumi's smile wanes. "A week?" she repeats in a disappointed voice. "But Chubei, that's far too long!" Her hands thud against her stiff obi causing a fan to fall out.The little boy jumps and curiously peers at her obi, wondering if anything else is hidden behind the colourful swirls, like candy or maybe a wooden top...He almost giggles. Almost.

Chubei raises an eyebrow. Was that a whine in her voice? He puffs himself up as she bends down to pick up the fan and tuck it back in it's place.

"Now, now, I'm not falling for that look! Not anymore!"

She pouts.

"Alright, alright." He wags his finger at her. "Oziki isn't going to be too happy about this, I'll have you know."

She gives a squeal of delight, clasping her hands together much like a child receving a gift.

"Thank you, thank you!" she exclaims merrily. "I would hug you, but you know..."

She glances down at the gorgeous layers of her kimono.Chubei notices that despite all of Rozu's spiteful retorts, she still had her obi tied behind her. Folded and padded with such intricate care. Twirling his moustache, he pensively wonders how long his most sought after girl will carry on pretending to be oblivious to all...but he would be a hypocrite to say anything. For he is the same...

"Yes, I understand." He laughs. "You'd better be off then, that boy looks like he's going to drop dead if he doesn't get something to eat soon." The little boy yawns in response.

"See ya!" Kaiyoumi says brightly, ushering the boy through the shoji and slides it shut.

Chubei massages his temple as he walks to his cabinent to retrieve a new pipe, whispering out loud.

" Kaiyoumi, promise. Promise me you will not allow your feelings for the child to get in the way..."

---------


	5. Five

_Disclaimer: Peacemaker Kurogane belongs to Nanae Chrono._

**CHAPTER FIVE**

The sunlight filters in through the bars of a small cage.

The little boy stands near it. There are grains of white rice are stuck around his mouth, and he pats his stomach, half wondering at the pain that has left his insides. The sticky rice cakes he has just consumed is keeping him content, for now. For now he is drawn to the remains of a bird in the cage. Tiny bones, bleached by the elements of nature. He shivers under his blanket. The wicker cage had been disposed clandestinely near the arched bridge.

As though the blooming flowers,the lush grass and hovering butterflies would cover up all sign of death in the cage.

He pulls the blanket tightly around him and paitently waits for the girl to finish fixing her hair up.

Kaiyoumi stares at her rippled reflection, her fingers fumbling atop her elaborately looped coifurre as she pushes a heavy pin back into place. How the ornaments bother her! Stealing a glance at the boy, she makes a mental note to find him some clean clothes and ask the maids to prepare him a bath. But for now, she cannot help but wonder what tonight will bring. Or more exactly, who it would bring...

The thought is pushed away just as she shoves a shimmering kanzashi into the inky depths of her hair. With more force then needed. After inhaling slowly, she turns to the boy, smiling sweetly as she extends her hand towards his drooping figure.

The little boy breaks away from his silent musings of the cage. He gazes upwards, noticing her extended hand.

A harmless gesture. But it is because of the many hands he had accepted that led him to this sad place.

He turns around and notices that behind the lovely facade of gardens,the compound wall looms. The confinement does not hurt him as much as the realisation that behind the plaster wall, no one is waiting for his return. But, the girl, she...

The little boy darts a glance back at Kaiyoumi. She is different because she _wants_ him. That's what she said to the dragon, didn't she? She actually _wants _him...could it be that she actually cares for him? Ever since he felt her hand wrap around his, ever since he first looked into her strange eyes, he had felt safe, secure. Would she...always be with him?

Even though he has known her for only a day, the thought of her not being there...frightens him. The wind swirls past and the little boy for a reason unknown to him, panicks.

He feels as though the winds will blow her away, if he is not able to reach her in time.The very thought of her leaving him forms a heavy lump in his throat.

The little boy releases his grip on the tattered blanket and runs towards her. His bruised feet thud against the weatherbeaten wood. Kaiyoumi is looking wistful as she stares up at the cloudless sky, and then, hearing sudden noise, she turns...

...and her eyes widen.

The little boy trips and tumbles towards her. Kaiyoumi looks astonished. Could he...want to play with her? Was he coming out of his shell? So soon?

Only after feeling the boys quaking shoulders, did Kaiyoumi realise that he is crying. She frowns as she gives her surroundings a look over, something terrible must have frightened him. She glances at the nearby shutters, they were closed, and she is certain that at this moment, the gardens are only occupied by them.

She gently pats the boy's back in hopes that it will comfort him. His grip on her fingers tightens and since his tears seemd endless, Kaiyoumi softly sinks onto the hard floor.The little boy buries his head into her lap and in doing so crushes the delicate silk.

He watches as his tears slide down his face onto her kimono. He imagines them to be crystal beads sewn with the brocade.

Kaiyoumi gazes down at the river beneath her, the sound of rushing water soothes her as she watches a group of rainbow coloured butterflies,chase each other over the waters glistening surface.

Sighing wistfully, she hums a lullaby to the boy whilst gently stroking his hair. Chubei had told her nothing about the boys background and the thought of asking Oziki didn't seem a good idea. She wondered what his life had been like. If he had a mother...the thought pangs her.

She recalls a hazy yet precious image, of a wrinkled palm, tiny fingers uncurling towards her..fingers that never had the chance to entertwine with her own...Kaiyoumi presses a hand across her aching heart.

The little boy breathes in her sweet fragrance and allows himself to secretly pretend she is the lady in his dreams...wearing a sakura patterned kimono.

As Kaiyoumi finishes the tune, he sits up. His expression one of great concentration. She pushes strands of hair away from his tear stained face, curious as to what he'll do next.

He whispers, his face shy, voice soft, "Promise you won't go away...ever?"

She is shocked, partly because he has spoken, and partly because of his question. But there is no hesitation in her answer. It might be foolishness on her part, but there is no doubt in her heart that she will never leave this child. Yet, beautiful as she is, worshipped as she is...Kaiyoumi is only human.

Her only mistake in answering him, is that she didn't realise.

"I promise-- not ever!"

--------

_Cast the pearls aside, of a simple life of need_

_Come into my life forever_

_The crumbled cities stand as known_

_of the sights you have been shown_

_of the hurt you call your own_

_Love is suicide..._

_---------_

Chubei pushes his new pipe behind a ear as he leafs through a pile of dusty ink prints, merrily humming a tune.

He knows that sooner or later a scowling Oziki will come in and demand to know why the newest child has been moved to Kaiyoumi's room. Yet, he would find a way to convince him it was necessary, as he always did. Oziki would not have such a successful house if it weren't for Chubei, and he knew it.

He abruptly stops singing when a spot of blue flashes before his eyes. Intrigued, he pulls out a thin scroll of paper, scanning his room before looking down.

The scroll is a picture of a sky filled with clouds.

Chubei sadly wipes the dust away. Instantly he recalls a stormy day when he spotted three children miserably staring at the grey skies.

When he had learned of their crisis, he let out a hearty laugh and ushered them to his smoky room. They had complained they could not see the clouds, so Chubei painted them clouds, many clouds. Even now he can still hear their childish squeals of delight and glee. He closes his eyes, a futile attempt to rid of the past.

Opening them he wonders if he should tell Kaiyoumi the truth about the twins... that they were still here... He lights his pipe, welcoming the strong scent of tobacco. Oziki had decided it was time for the three children to grow up...prematurely...Chubei had nearly risked his position trying to talk him out of such a plan. But Oziki was the one who held the deeds..and ultimately, he had the last say in most things.

Chubei wonders if the twins ever did adjust to their new life after that. He rarely saw them after that day, Oziki being in charge of the mens quarters, and he in charge of the womens. He was glad he did not have to part with Kaiyoumi...she was his little sparrow, his favourite girl.

Following this stream of thought, Chubei ponders upon his favourite child.

Actually there is nothing to ponder, he thinks to himself, amused. The boy is the only person Oziki can't control but otherwise delights in tormenting--- the boy he had found on one of his long travels. Chubei still remembers that day as if it happened only yesterday.

He had seen a dirty child no older than five, babbling nonsense to himself on the side of the road, before a grave of rotting lotuses. Chubei had ordered the runner to stop the rickshaw and had stepped down beside the boy, noticing that the grave had been freshly dug up.

He recalls staring at the child's torn fingernails and what was stacked neatly stacked in the middle of a torn gi.

Human bones.

A sight that still haunts him in his sleep. Chubei later learnt there were trades out there worst then slavery.

He had taken the boy under his wing and was as proud as any father when he gave him the name Shouki. Oziki had often laughed at the irony of such a name, enjoying the salty tears that spilled from the boy's haunting eyes when he teased him, and the darkness cloaking his pupils.

Chubei had thought of Shouki as a frightening beauty. A term that nearly sent Oziki to an early grave as he had choked on his warm sake.

Shouki's hair shade certainly puzzled the townsfolk as they saw him waltzing behind Chubei. Many old women would come up to stroke his hair mumbling how it was just like the sunlight. But as time flew by, his hair had turned a silvery white.

He smiles fondly as he thinks of his page, his burden of painful memories lifted temporarily. _I wonder where he is_, he found himself wondering. _Usually, he'd make it to my room my now..._Chubei scratches his thinning hair, turning back to his papers--

--an excited shout and a thud following soon after.

Chubei is amused as he looks up to see the skinny boy with white straggly hair grinning up at him from the floor.

"Chubeiiii!" Shouki jumps up happily and holds his arms out for a hug.

Chubei obliges as he always does, which is at least six times a day. "You know, one of these days, Shouki, that tree is going to break off," he chides as the teen brushed off the petals from his green kimono. "And you'll fall and hurt yourself."

"Blah blah blah!" Shouki exclaims, covering his ears with his hands.

Chubei sighs. "Have it your way then."

He turns back to clear his desk of the dusty ink prints, each of them unwelcome pathways to forgotten memories, or rather memories that he wished would be forgotten. The past was just such an ache, even the happy times. Or maybe he felt guilty. Maybe that was it. Maybe, even though he believes he did all he could for these children, he was still guilty at them being here, and him unable to change it...unable to give them a better life...

And there was that feeling. The feeling that oneday something would go wrong...that all this pretence, all the makeup he applied over the reality of Yogatoya, would oneday peel over to reveal the ugliness within. Would he be able to bear it? He hears Oziki's jeering voice in his head.

_"You think you can just make a fairytale out of this? You think, that just by painting a tree, it will be something else? A tree is a tree Chubei. You should remember that."_

"Soooo Chubeiiii," begins Shouki eagerly, eyes big like a child's, interrupting the man's unwanted thoughts. Chubei focuses on him gladly. "When's Kaiyoumi coming?" He giggles, placing a dirty thumb in his mouth.

"She's already gone," responds Chubei with a rueful smile, resisting the urge to go over and pull the boy's hand from his mouth. "You missed her, my boy."

"Awww." Shouki droops, dark eyes looking watery. "I wanted to say hi! Hi, Chubei, I wanted to say hi! Hi!"

"Now now," Chubei says gently, worrying that the boy might like repeating the word for the rest of the day, or even worse, burst into tears, "Why don't you go and fetch me some tea then? Hmmm? You can see Kaiyoumi later, I promise."

"Okay!"

Shouki beams, tucking his hands in the pockets of his oversized haori. He starts to climb out the window but Chubei quickly strides towards him. "Shouki," he says in a very slow and clear voice, taking him by the shoulders and steering him towards the shoji, "The exit is that way, remember?"

"I remember!" he answers brightly. "Bye Chubei!"

"Bye Shouki." comes the patient reply.

"Bye bye bye bye..." Shouki sings as he marches away.

Chubei massages his forehead for a moment, before refilling his pipe with tobacco. The force of Shouki's embrace had spilled the contents of his pipe onto the lavish carpet. He is a little worried that Shouki might forget where he is heading off for, and enter someone's room unwanted again.

The last time this happened, one of his girls had basically stomped into his office, dragging the crying boy by the arm. Chubei had been amused to see his face covered in rouge, apparently Shouki had gotten into her cosmetics. But it wasn't him that Chubei had been angry at though, it had been the young woman. Rozu should not have reacted the way she did, especially as she knew that, despite Shouki being sixteen years old, his mind had not caught up.

Sometimes it saddens him to know that the boy will literally always remain a child, but a part of him is also glad. Glad for what, he doesn't know.

Chubei glances sadly at the ink printing of the clouds and once again he hears the gleeful giggles...

There are some things that just can't be answered, no matter how hard you try.

-------


	6. Six

_Disclaimer: Peacemaker Kurogane belongs to Nanae Chrono._

**CHAPTER SIX**

Kichisaburo awakened to find his face pressed against the moist earth and groaned in total frustration.

How long was this going to keep happening? How long would these unwanted memories keep resurfacing? It wasn't as though he had amnesia, he remembered everything in his life. But now _everything_ was flooding back. The tone of voices, the colour of garments. Every emotion, every word...why?

Was it because he had finally left? He got up slowly. His vision was hazy and he had to think to remember where he was and what had recently taken place.

The thought is brief when he hears the gentle rustle of wheat. His hand instinctively reached for the katana on the ground, and as he gripped the hilt, he looked at the old woman. Her eyes seemed to be boring straight through him, even in death.

He had never felt sickened before.

It was unnerving, it was unfamiliar territory, and it annoyed him. He reached over and closed her eyelids. "You got in the way," he said to her. Then repeated it, this time with more assurance. Confidence. He sheathes the sword. "You got in the way. You asked for it."

Already he could hear the flies approaching. Turning away, Kichisaburo began the long trudge towards her home.

Inside, he wasted no time at all in digging out all the food he could find, then eating as much as he could. He stuffed bread into his mouth, drank cold soup without a second thought. The risk of starvation changes your attitude towards everything, he thought. People will do anything to eat.

Glancing outside at the darkening sky, Kichisaburo got up and started to kindle the fire. Soon, the flames were steadily licking at the wood, and shadowy outlines were becoming clearer. There was enough light now to properly explore. He began moving around the house, gazing at ornaments, picking things up and studying them.

He sniggered as he wondered how the lady managed to carry her weight around such a small hut. Then he moved towards the single drawer of an old cupboard. Tugging it open, he finds folded clothes, musty and looking like they hadn't been worn in years.

These are boy's clothes, he thought to himself, and took a gi and hakama out.

Seeing as they were clean, he decided to wear them. For a moment, he couldn't help thinking what would have happened if he had come straight to her hut. Would she have helped him? Given him these clothes to wear? _Willingly_ provided him with a meal? He started to close the drawer, but spotted a wooden box partially hidden by the clothes.

Curiously, he removed it from the drawer and placing it on his lap, began to run his fingers over the finely carved lettering on the surface. Whatever this held, it looked rather secretive. He smirked. It wouldn't be so secret if a stranger knew what was inside.

"Well, pretty box, let's see what you're hiding."

As soon as it was opened though, he sighed. Just boring old letters. He had better things to do than try and read them. Actually, no he didn't. It was true that he had nothing else to do right now, but he wasn't exactly literate. There was one familiar character that caught his eye though.

_Kasai_.

Judging from the letter, it had to be the old lady's family name.

He looked down at his clothes and said aloud, "It really is a small world."

-----

_Three years earlier..._

As Kichisaburo slowly climbs up the rickety stairs towards his room, specked in the blood of yet another dead man, the scent of opium drifts towards him.

He frowns and slides open the first shoji on his right. When he enters, a young man with unkempt hair looks up at him. Kasai. One year older than him. And a fool. He looks at the pipe. Opium stolen from Chubei's room, he guesses. In times before, Chubei would make a fuss about it, but these days he hardly notices anything.

He makes his way over to him and plucks the pipe from his hand. There is no protest. Kichisaburo stares at him as he exhales smoke. "You're still here."

"Where else would I be?" Kasai answers listlessly, fingers floating through the grey wreaths of smoke, as if to grasp them.

Kichisaburo snorts, giving the pipe back. "You were going to leave."

Kasai's faded eyes are settled on a point behind him. "I am. Just not yet. I'm waiting for Ikue."

For how many more days? Kichisaburo thinks. Aloud he says, "Well I'm going to get something to eat. You coming?" He pauses. Kasai is looking at the bloodstains on his clothing, and Kichisaburo waits for him to say something. He doesn't.

"No." Kasai leans back. "You go ahead." His skin is pallid in the flickering light of the lantern. _When did he stop eating? _Kichisaburo wonders.

_Since Ikue disappeared? _He wants to suggest that maybe an angry customer had found out about them, and killed her in his rage. But he won't. Kasai has probably figured that out by now, he thinks.

"Suit yourself."

What was the point in talking to a ghost? Kaisai might as well take his own life right now. There was no use in prolonging his misery. Kichisaburo feels an itch to cut off his head right now, but he contains himself. That would be too much of a mess to clean up, and he is too tired to bother.

----

He smirked at the memory, but somewhere deep within him, he felt a little sorry for that idiot. He remembered with an amused smile, the ramblings. Kasai would go on and on about how Yogatoya was better then toiling in the dirty fields with his mother. (A really _old _looking mother, Kichisaburo found himself thinking. Surely, she couldn't have spent all those years worrying about such a useless son?)

It's a small price, what I have to pay, Kasai had told him when he first came. Kichisaburo snickered. How long did it take for him to regret those words?

He lowered the box on the floor and the folded futon in the corner suddenly caught his eye. For some reason, he felt relief at being totally alone out in the middle of nowhere. No one would know where he was. Not his customers, not the boys he had lived with, and not Chubei. He was dead to everyone. Dead and gone.

He settled himself in front of a dusty old mirror.

Picking up an ivory comb, he started to brush out the tangles in his hair, finding himself gazing at his reflection, and not wholely out of vanity.

He was almost astounded at how ghostly he seemed. Was that an omen? To reassure himself he extended a hand and touched the glass. He had a name, he was real. He was still part of this Life game. "Kichisaburo," he whispered. "I am Kichisaburo..."

-----

_my reflection_

_dirty mirror_

_there's no connection to myself_

_I'm the face in your dreams of glass_

_so save your prayers..._

_I never let on_

_that I was on a sinking ship_

_I never let on that I was down_

_You blame yourself for what you can't ignore_

_You blame yourself for wanting more_

-----

_Ki...chi...saburo_.

Sitting in front of Kaiyoumi's wooden vanity, the boy's eyes wander to the beam of moonlight dancing upoun the mirror surface. The sun is dozing and the little boy knows he should follow that example, but he can't seem to fall asleep. _Kichi...saburo_.

Averting his eyes from the sparkling light, he looks down at the scented paper in his hands. Earlier in the day Kaiyoumi had taken some time to give him a calligraphy lesson...

----

Kaiyoumi looks so peaceful, dressed in a plain yukata and without her ornate combs. Her hand moves gracefully, as with a stroke of a brush, demonstrates a letter for the boy to copy. Then while he is busy, she brings across a fresh piece of paper, and studies him briefly before dipping her brush into the ink and starting to write something else.

Under her scrutiny he thinks that perhaps he has irritated her and that she is preparing to break her promise to him. But to his suprise, she asks him if he recalls ever being named. The question is a simple one, yet as he scans his few memories he finds no answer to give to her. He hears only blurred voices repeating the same word. It was always gaki, gaki. But he is sure that isn't a name at all.

"No," he says in a small voice.

She tilts her head and smiles. "Well, can _I_ give you a name?" She leans towards him and whispers in his ear. He repeats the word to her, thinking it sounds like it belongs in a play. Kaiyoumi's slender hands pause on the parchment. "Is the name okay?" She bites her lip, and he stares, puzzled. "I thought it suited you...I was looking in Chubei's name book.."

Is she upset because she thinks he doesn't like the name? Panicking in his hurry to reassure her that it's alright, he tips over the bottle of ink. They both watch as it blooms on the paper, and then Kaiyoumi leans forward and thoughtfully studies the blots.

"I'm sorry..." His cheeks burn red.

She surprises him once again, by clapping her hands together and laughing. "Oh look at it! It looks just like us!"

At that, the boy glances down at the paper, and blinks. She is right. If you look hard enough, you can see that it is a big figure holding the hand of a little figure. It can't be anything else. His mouth curves into a delighted smile.

"You're so very talented, my little Kichisaburo," she states in an exaggerated posh voice, hugging him close to her. She gazes down at him, her fingers brushing his cheek. "So. Do I have your permission to call you that?"

But upon hearing his soft breathing, she realises he has drifted off to the land of sleep. "Oh..." She covers her mouth with a sleeve as she giggles. "Well, I'll take that as a yes then."

----

Pulling the thin paper under his nose, the little boy catches a whiff of Kaiyoumi's lavender scent and feels panged. In the mirror he can see the shadowy outline of her bed, a raised futon decorated with draping curtains and silk cushions.The layers of soft padding allow him to sleep more peacefuly then when he used to sleep on the hard ground.

He thinks it silly that she has such a comfortable futon, since she hardly ever sleeps in it.The little boy sighs wistfully, this is not the first night that Kaiyoumi has left him alone. Where she goes he can not follow, he still recalls how she once said she leaves him only to make others forget their sorrows and pain.

"Like an angel?" he had asked her, brow furrowed. Yes, she had replied, smiling as always, but her eyes were sad.

He doesn't complain though, because he knows each morning when he wakes up, he'll be in her arms. And he'll feel safe, protected. The little boy always wakes up before she does, before even the sparrows outside begin chirping. He likes to place his head against her heart, the steady rhythm soothes him. He also likes to pretend she really is his mother, even though she looks so young to him without all her makeup, more like an older sister.

The little boy lets that pleasant thought linger as his fingers fumble atop all the exquistive bottles, which he had neatly arranged this morning. The tasks he is asigned to do don't bother him at all. He enjoys tipping the contents of her dressers drawers, polishing all her ornaments and placing them back in order of size. Daily he brings a tea tray from the kitchens to her quarters. And since he passes the gardens, he has made a habit of picking a different flower for her each day.

Apart from that Kaiyoumi also let him to choose the garments for her evening outings. Her wardrobe amazes him each time he looks inside. Never before has he seen such beautiful kimono, in rich colours that make him feel dizzy. Each time he helped her dress he felt as though he is wrapping a human present, not knowing how close to the truth he really is.

In the mirror he sees the reflection of his own kimono. He feels proud as he views it on the wooden stand and even more when he wraps it around him, because Kaiyoumi is the one who chose it for him. Pale green with a current at the hem.

The boy studies her makeup utensils that came in different sizes and shapes, he is fascinated by them. Often he lies on their bed and watches her paint her face, singing him songs that make him laugh. As soon as he removes the lid of a small container, he sneezes, and the powder goes everywhere.

"Oops," he says aloud.

Curiously, he peers into the mirror and grins. He looks so silly! As he reaches for some tissue paper, he yawns and rubs his face not realising his hands are also smeared with rouge.

He glances back at the mirror and jumps.

Slowly tracing the smeared rouge around on his face, he stares at his bleeding reflection. At that moment, a gentle breeze sails into the room and tips over a few bottles, the boy is startled and a chill run up his spine. He unsteadily slides off the stool and walks to the window. Ignoring the mirror's looming presence he gazes down.

Below him red paper lanterns bob in the breeze, and as he watches them glow, he is reminded of fireflies. He wonders how long it has been since he came here. He is forgetting his family, with every day they disappear like sand thorough his hands.

The world beyond Yogotoya's walls seems like a distant dream to him. Can all people play and dance forever? Perhaps his grandfather wasn't lying after all,maybe this is a place of eternal happiness. And he would be a part of it too. He gazes upwards, watching the stars glitter and shimmer just the way Kaiyoumi's obi brooches do, once he finishes shining them. He hopes Kaiyoumi can see them too.

Feeling cold he moves away from the balcony, walking backwards and consequently he steps on something. With a yelp he moves to the side and stares at it, before it comes into focus and he realises what it is. He nudges the item into the moonlight, feeling the familar lightness of a hair ornament, and not the body of a scary bug, like he first thought it was.

He remembers who it belongs to, a little girl named Ikue, who had come into their room the other day to give Kaiyoumi a letter.

He smiles when he thinks of Ikue, she is a year older then him. She has a penchant for losing her belongings and he often saw her getting reprimanded or slapped by her keeper, Rozu. A beauitful yet mean woman who always carries a hand mirror with her. He feels sorry for Ikue, who is lively and talkative and often passes him sweets when he carries tea trays for Kaiyoumi. It doesn't bother her when he is silent during most of their conversations.

The only other person he talks to besides Kaiyoumi is a funny boy with white hair. He remembers the first day he met him. Shouki was marching down the hallway, banging a drum and singing. The little boy had been on his way to Kaiyoumi's room, and when he heard the strange sounds, he froze. But when he looked up, right away he had known Shouki was different from the two other boys who had been laughing at him.

That day, the white haired boy had stopped and looked at him. "You're new," he had said, smiling bashfully. "You don't know Shouki." He giggled.

"Who's Shouki?" the little boy felt compelled to ask.

The white haired boy had laughed like this was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. Then he bowed. "_I'm_ Shouki," he had answered proudly. The little boy had watched, bewildered, as this Shouki placed the tip of his thumb in his mouth and asked shyly, "What's your name?"

He hadn't known what to say. But just as that moment a young woman had hurried towards them and grabbed Shouki's hand. "Chubei's been looking all over for you!" she had scolded as she pulled him along.

"Bye, bye!" Shouki had waved happily as he was dragged away. "Bye bye no name!"

Ordinarily, the little boy would have been upset if someone called him no name but he had just skipped along to Kaiyoumi's room, feeling light hearted. When he asked Kaiyoumi who Shouki was, she had explained that he was a page for Chubei, bringing him tea and things. Kind of like me, he had thought.

Yawning loudly, the boy climbs onto the futon. He crawls beneath the silk duvet, leaving a space beside him for Kaiyoumi. He can feel the heaviness of the makeup on his face but he's too tired to wash it off. He feels very sleepy now, after thinking about everything. The last thing he thinks about is that he's going to find Shouki tomorrow and tell him that he has a name now. There is a smile on his face as he falls asleep.

He will sleep well this night.


	7. Seven

_Disclaimer: We don't own Peacemaker, but we do own a gooseberry bush._

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

Silk curtains sway in and out of Yogotaya's most grandeous suite.

Men with empty pockets pause to look up at the balcony, wondering if the elusive woman within will ever venture out. They are not disheartened when they hear she casts her charms on only the elite and wealthy. They find it even more alluring that she is beyound their reach. Though rumour has it, that a little boy shares her quarters and only he holds the key to her heart. Now they see a child's face at the window and know that the rumour is true.

A gust of air enters and Kichi tightly clutches his paintings. He is tired of the wind, constantly coming up to steal his sheets. Certain that the wind has retreated he releases his tight grip on the parchments and sits down.

He brings the box of bottled inks up to his face.They are a gift from Chubei and Kaiyoumi for his sixth birthday. Blinking at the bright colours, he recalls that happy day two weeks ago. A while ago Shouki had been delighted to discover Kichi didn't know what a birthday was. He went to great lengths to explain it to him, even stealing Chubei's name books and thus upsetting the entire file cabinet. Chubei had entered to find the two covered in books and papers, blinking at each other in shock.

"Oh dear." Kaiyoumi had peered in from behind Chubei's round frame, looking flustered. "Kichi, I thought I told you to wait in my room!"

"Sorry," the boy had said, ashamed.

Chubei had cleared his throat and folded his arms, looking severely down at his page. "Shouki...I thought I told _you _to play in the gardens. What were you doing here?"

"Telling Kichi what a birthday is," the white haired boy had answered in a small voice. "He said he didn't have one."

They had both been surprised when Kaiyoumi and Chubei had burst out laughing. And then Kaiyoumi had bent over and told him of _course_ he had a birthday.The very night she had found him, curled up beneath an antique wardrobe.

Kichi smiles as he finishes painting the portrait of a certain cherry tree for Shouki. Since it is his favourite thing. Kichi always sees him in that tree outside Chubei's window. Once Shouki almost convinced him to climb it, but then he remembered that Kaiyoumi would be cross, and he didn't. But that was okay. He still enjoys painting them.

Lying on the embroided carpet, Kichi practises writing his name. He pauses and looks up at Kaiyoumi, who is seated in front of the mirror, applying her cosmetics. He puts aside his half finished name, and reaches for a fresh piece of paper. He watches Kaiyoumi's reflection in the mirror. The orbs swirling with blue and green, he wishes he could paint them. He remembers an ink print he once saw...and he was sure the water was the exact colour of Kaiyoumi's eyes. What is it called?

Kichi concentrates, and then remembers. "Like the ocean," he murmurs to himself.

Kaiyoumi has heard. In the mirror, she smiles at him. "Did you say something, Kichi-chan?"

He shakes his head, no. He hadn't meant for her to hear.

"Oh come on...Won't you tell me?" she pouts. "Pretty please? With sugar on top?"

She places her hands on the top of her head, and waggles her fingers. A giggle escapes his lips. "I was thinking that Kaiyoumi's eyes look like the ocean," he mumbles shyly. It's been a year since he's come here, but this is the first time he has commented on her peculiar eye colour. Kaiyoumi looks surprised, then laughs as she adjusts an earring, sweeping her hair back and swivelling around to face him.

"My father used to say that to me," she says softly. "He told me the first time he said it was when I was born. But then," She smiles. "…I was much too young to hear it." She looks far away then, sad. Kichi puts down the brush, Kaiyoumi never talks about her past or how she came to be here. He briefly wonders if she had a mother but then he notices the tears brimming in her eyes.

He doesn't like it all. Sadness is not an emotion she should have to show. It seems almost frightening to him, that a girl so beautiful, so decked out in the brightest of colours, could wear such a mournful expression. "Is it okay for me to say it?" Kichi asks.

A new light seems to shine in her eyes. Now they look like gems, not much different from the ones she wears on her robes. But those are fake, he thinks to himself as he watches her brushing her hair. And her gems are real.

"Of course," she whispers, holding her arms out to him.

The gesture sparks something in him, a longing, for something he only feels in her presence. The love and trust in his eyes makes her own blur again. But they were already painted, so she can't allow herself to cry. Kichi climbs into her lap, rustling the fabric, careful not to disrupt the ornate jewels placed on her kimono, and she gently hugs him.The boy breathes in her perfume, and leans his cheek against the softness of her dress, fingering the intricate patterns and beads on the material.

Kaiyoumi smiles and parting rose coloured lips, begins to sing.

The sweetness of her voice, together with the gentleness of the lullaby makes him drift off, and she continues her song until she is sure he is asleep. She hears a faint knock at the shoji, it was time for her to leave again. Gliding off her wooden stool, she tenderly carries him towards her futon.

As she places him down, smiling at his rosy cheeks, she draws the covers up to his chin and peers in closer. She giggles. The boy had been hugging her so hard, the beaded patterns had been imprinted into his cheek.

Drifting in between dreams of rushing water and golden sand, he can hear her infectious laughter as she gently slides the door shut behind her.

---------

_as far as you take me, that's where I believe_

_the realm of soft delusions, floating on the leaves_

_on a distant shoreline, she waves her arms to me..._

_without a care in this world_

_without a care in this life.._

_porcelina of the oceans blue..._

_you make it right_

_it's all alright_

_you make it right_

_porcelina of the oceans blue_

-------

The morning light slants into the room, and when Kichisaburo opens his eyes he finds himself directly staring at a golden beam. He watches the dust particles floating in the light, and realises that he is not at the shore of an ocean, but in the hut of a dead woman.

With a jolt, he gets up and pushing back the bedcovers, he pads over to the window and squints. Her corpse is still there, the naked scarecrow standing vigil over her. He sighs.

"She needs to be buried," he mutters.

For a split second, when he wonders what will happen to her home, he thinks about staying here. Kichisaburo looks around, as if realising this for the first time. Could I really? he asks himself. Could I really make a new begining for myself here? He shuddered.

There was no way. He had no idea where he was heading, but the thought of settling down somewhere here was suffocating. Especially in the house of someone he'd killed. He couldn't stop...he had to keep moving. First, he would take a bath and eat. Then he would approach the village. As for what would happen from then on, he had no idea. He preferred it that way.

A predictable life was no longer what he wanted.

"What _do_ I want?" he asked aloud as he grabbed his clothes and headed towards the small bath house.

For some reason, the question was accompanied by an unbearable feeling of emptiness. "I know what I _wanted_," he whispered to himself as he threw his clothes inside, and went back for wood to light the fire. "I wanted to find him and kill him."

There was already clean water in the tub, which saved him the hassle of walking to the well.

_But I didn't._

Angrily, he shoved the wood into it's place.

Life never worked out the way you planned. It was always full of surprises, more nasty than good, he had come to learn. Just when you are confident and assured, just when you think you have it under control, just when you think things are looking up... it all comes crashing down. Like a loose boulder on an unsuspecting passerby.

He had experienced enough of these moments to know that nothing, anymore, held the power to shock him.

---------

All across Japan, families and friends unite to celebrate the New Year festival. Behind the wall of a magnificent compound however,Yogotoya's occupants remain changeless. The passing of time does not affect them. Life is all the same.

But amongst the bustle of women and men preparing themselves for the hours ahead, a young boy pauses to reflect on how fast the year has ended. Kichi is dressed in the rich garb of a child attendant. Brushing his bangs to the side, he quickens his pace towards Kaiyoumi's quarters. It would be his fault if Kaiyoumi arrives late to her banquet, as he has not yet delivered her new robes and ornaments.

He frowns as he wonders why she needs a new set of kimonos every week, her wardrobe is already overflowing with so many silks. Kichi had asked Hayami the dress maker this question but Hayami had just laughed saying, "Well, if she wore the same clothes every night, the men would find it boring."

Kichi disagrees, even if Kaiyoumi was dressed in an old yukata, he doubts she'd look boring. Hayami must have seen his confused look for he then patted his head and gave him a bag of sweets. Kichi smiles as he puts one in his mouth and thinks of sharing the rest with Shouki.

Sucking on the sweet he thinks of how Kaiyoumi often likens Hayami to that of a spider always weaving his web. He does look like a spider, but he is a nice spider. Kichi giggles.

As he walks along, he also remembers how Kaiyoumi had asked him to think about all the things he had learned the previous year, telling him to keep in mind that he's no longer a boy of six but seven.

_Seven..._

The same number of parties she will go to tonight, Kichi thinks sadly. He has become used to spending the long nights alone but he wishes she could celebrate the festivities with him. Sighing, Kichi pushes that thought away and tries to recall everything he has been given lessons on. Apart from the reading and writing lessons, Kaiyoumi has also taught him the correct method in serving drinks and meals, playing certain instruments and his most favourite, the basic steps of dance.

He often watches her rehearse in their room and is entranced by her graceful body movements, almost like the limbs of a willow tree in a gentle breeze. And when she sings, Kichi truly forgets where he is. He stops his remembering when a colourful buttefly flutters before him. For some reason it reminds him of Kaiyoumi.

Grinning, he places the packages carefully in the corner and skips after the insect.

Kichi takes out a clay jar to capture the butterfly, he wants to let it free in Kaiyoumi's room, he wants to see her smile and laugh. He starts following the butterfly through corridors that are painted with lush scenery, making him feel as though he is really outside, in real fields of flowers.

In his state of childish delight, he is unaware that he is heading in the direction of another corridor Kaiyoumi has gravely forbidden him from entering. Giggling he closes his eyes and spins around, he stops only when he starts to feel dizzy, but when he opens them he realises the butterfly has left him.

Glancing at his surroundings, Kichi feels nervous and begins to slowly wander, wishing he hadn't come here. Unsure of where to go, his stomach twists and turns as he thinks of Kaiyoumi waiting for him.

"Hello boy...are you lost?"

A man comes out of the shadows, smelling of alcohol.

Kichi jumps, startled. He clasps his clay jar, shakes his head and turns to run. But the man blocks his path. "Whoa, calm down! I'll help you. I know where you're meant to be…." He smiles, and Kichi doesn't like his smile.

"Yeah, I know where you're meant to be…"

He grabs him roughly by the wrist, causing the jar to fall, and starts to drag him away. Kichi's eyes blur as the clay shatters, it was a gift from Shouki. He tries to untangle himself but to no avail. The green fields filled with such pretty flowers move farther away as he is being dragged. He sees the butterfly flit back into focus and outstretches his fingers, maybe if he is able to grab it, the butterfly will take him back to where he was.

--------

_Nine years later..._

It is a rainy night, and through the open window, Kichisaburo can see the blurred outlines of houses. Most of their windows are dark, as dark as his soul, he thinks. A dog is barking somewhere, and he sits there, listening, and letting the water spray him. Watching it mix with the blood in his hair, and drip down his clothes. Then he hears a step outside, and the shoji slides open.

"God, _Kichi_!"

He smirks, leaning back, tossing his sword into his corner of the room. "What about God?"

Kasai stands in the doorway with a disgusted expression on his face. His hair looks very tangled, and there are rouge marks on his face. "You're bleeding all over the damned floor!" Reluctantly, he approaches and kneels beside him. "You look seriously hurt. What the hell happened?" When there is no reply, Kasai shakes him. "Hey, speak up!"

He gasps as Kichisaburo fell forward limply, into his lap.

Kasai's eyes widen. "Kichi!"

"I'm dying," his friend whispers faintly. "I can see a bright light...very bright..."

"What?" Kasai says nervously, looking down at him. It is too late to take him to a hospital that's for sure. Outside, it's pelting. His eyes water.

"Damn it!" He hugs his friend close. "I'm so sorry I can't help you!"

To his surprise, Kichisaburo bursts into laughter.

Kasai yelps, and scrambles backwards. He stares in shock as his friend stood up, looking perfectly alive. "You're such a gullible idiot," crows Kichisaburo. "You'll believe anything, won't you? He he, you should see the look on your face!"

Kasai's eyes narrow, but his cheeks are red. "Very funny," he mutters, glaring at him. "Well, what was I supposed to think, with all that blood on you?"

"I killed a few men tonight," replies Kichisaburo with a smirk. "The blood is theirs."

Kasai shivers. "Close the damned window, it's cold."

"Nope. I'm having a shower." Kichisaburo answers, settling himself under it again.

His friend stares. "You're insane, you know that? Just my luck that I have to share a room with you."

"So sad, isn't it? You'd much rather share a room with Ikue. But then, we both know that's not possible." Kichisaburo snickers. "You misguided lovesick fool."

"For your information, I just came from her room," retorts Kasai, with a smug look on his face. He leans back against his futon and stretches. "Ah, we had a wonderful night together," he says dreamily. "I'm going to marry her someday, you know that? We're going to move to Edo."

Kichisaburo snorts. "They'll find out sooner or later. One of you will get killed. This place has no room for love."

"You're just jealous," said Kasai, turning over on his side. "Good night, Kichi."

"You know what _you_ are? You're naive. One of these days, you're going to really understand the ugliness here."

There was no reply.

"Unlike you, I was seven when I understood. I was eleven when I really understood. But you know, kids aren't all that complicated and they can deal with things. They can go on, as long as they've got something to believe in, something to fight for. But you, you've made the mistake of falling in love. And it'll kill you."

This time, he hasn't expected a reply. Kichisaburo looks down at his hands, at the bloody water staining them. And laughs.

--------


	8. Eight

_Disclaimer: Peacemaker Kurogane belongs to Nane Chrono and not the faeries._

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

With blank eyes, Kichisaburo stared at the fire he created.

Higher and higher the flames leapt, until the whole house disappeared. With Kasai's mother inside. Soon the place would be nothing but ashes. And then those ashes would scatter with the wind, and those who chanced upon these fields would never know that she existed. It was all gone.

The air became thick with smoke, and once again he turned towards the dirt road. As the flames roared behind him, Kichisaburo wished he could do the same with his past.

The same with his memories. It was true that no one in the village would know about his past until he told them. He could pretend to be a ronin and get away with it. But he couldn't get away from himself. He couldn't burn his memories. They would be with him until the day he died.

Every single one of them.

------

"Kaiyoumi!"

The strangled cry startles the young woman heading towards the shoji. With an expression of sadness and not surprise, she turns around. Kichi has woken up screaming from a familar nightmare. He is eight now but he hasn't forgotten what happened a year ago, when his clay jar shattered. It haunts him. He sees the clay break, in slow motion. He sees the butterfly change into a million butterflies in front of him, all of them blood red, trying to smother him. He feels a calloused hand grabbing hold of his own and that's when he screams. Hard.

"Sshhh, shhh, I'm here. It's alright."

He feels a soft hand grasp his, and his damp hair being stroked. The dream slowly dissolves. He sinks back on the futon, heart thudding, but his eyes, when they open are calm. Kaiyoumi's face comes into focus and he smiles. Because she will always be there for him. She will always be there when he calls out for her. That's all that really matters.

Kichi knows Kaiyoumi rescued him, because that's what he heard her murmuring that night, after she thought he fell asleep. It is true that Kaiyoumi had left her room to search for him after he had taken long to deliver her robes, and almost on intuition had found him. But what else had she whispered?

"It could have been worse."

Words that he has never forgotten. For there are things worse than a strange man grabbing you out of nowhere and taking you to a dark room. He remembers the fear that rose up in his throat when the man had shoved him down. How he opened his mouth and tried to yell but nothing came out. How panic crept into his veins like ice cold water. For if he couldn't cry her name out, how would she find him?

And then the shoji had slid open with a startling bang, and Kaiyoumi had stood there in the doorway, trembling with rage, and looking scarier than Kichi had ever seen her. He can still hear the crack of her palm against the strange man's face. And he will never forget how tightly she had held him, and how her body had been shaking against his.

"It could have been worse."

Kichi finds that somehow, he understands this, and cannot stand to be out of Kaiyoumi's sight. He can never forget that she saved him from the strange man. She is the only one who will always protect him, that is what she told him. Though he had first doubted it the day he met her, he believes that she is indeed an angel. She is _his _angel. Unfortunately, this is beginning to create more problems for Kaiyoumi than his young mind realises.

"Please stay," he whispers, tightening his grip on her hand.

Kaiyoumi bites her lip as she looks down at him with clear sorrow in her eyes, being a child he has the ability to make everything sound so simple yet he is unaware of who truly decides those choices for her. Oziki has warned her that if she spends another night in his company and not her clients, he will personally remove the boy from her care. And since Chubei has departed with Shouki on a short trip to Osaka, it seems all she can do is abide by his wishes.

She continues to reassuringly stroke Kichi's hair until she hears a loud bang at the screen doors.

"Alright, I'm coming!" Kaiyoumi calls out in a concerned voice, looking down at the boy again, who is now holding onto the silk cord of her obi. She and Rozu have been requested to host the banquet of a wealthy merchant and she knows that the older woman dislikes arriving late at any of her appointments just as much as she dislikes Kaiyoumi's presence.

Kichi recognises the expression on her face and with a sinking feeling, knows that she will leave him. But to an eight year old, acceptance doesn't come so easy.

"Please don't go," he implores, his face tear stained. "I don't want you to go!"

He looks so afraid and so helpless. Not for the first time, Kaiyoumi feels the guilt overwhelm her, feels that she is a horrible person. She promised him she wouldn't ever leave him. She didn't think he would take it so literally, but the fact that this boy places so much trust in her and she continues to fail him, fills her with a burning pain. Some days she can't stand to look him in the eyes, to see the love clearly shining there with childish honesty. She has been gazed upon by so many men, with looks of admiration, desire, awe, longing. But never love.

_I don't deserve it_, she thinks, her eyes watering, the lump in her throat reaching painful proportions. _I don't deserve his love. One day, he will look at me with the pain and anger of betrayal, the same way I did with Chubei... I prepare him for his life here, and thus, I too have a hand in his fate. After he realises what is expected of him here, how could he ever forgive me? I am still grateful to Chubei, and in some way I still love him. But I could never forgive him. _

A single tear slips down her cheek and falls onto his face, as if creating a river of their joint pain. The pain they share. He stops his crying, reaches up slowly and touches the wetness on her cheek. Her tears have made her rouge run, and Kichi frowns.

"Red is a bad colour," he whispers to himself, staring hard at the smear on his hand.

Kaiyoumi freezes. Ever since the incident, apart from not chasing butterflies anymore, he makes sudden comments that unnerve her. The ways his eyes cloud over and the blank look on his face during these occasions make her shiver. Could this life already be impacting him in ways she couldn't comprehend?

Kaiyoumi quickly shakes away the unsettling thought, and instead, smiles warmly at Kichi. She inclines her head and playfully asks, "But I wear red all the time, Kichi-chan. Does that make me bad?"

"No," he murmurs, shaking his head. "But it makes the people bad."

"What people?"

"The people who make you wear it."

She stares at him, before another angry succession of knocks interrupt them once more. "Get out here, Kaiyoumi! You can't keep doing this! That kid is nothing but trouble!"

"You have to go," Kichi says, a resigned yet worried look on his face as he releases his grip on her robes. He wants so badly for her to stay, but something tells him he will be causing trouble for her if she does. He bows his head, ashamed now. "I'm sorry I cried."

Kaiyoumi smiles faintly as she pulls the covers up to his chin, but her hands tremble. _I too have a hand in his fate... _

"Don't ever apologise to me," she says quietly. "Not for anything."

And then she is gone. As Kichi clenches his jaw and tightly shuts his eyes so he can't cry, he takes comfort in the lingering scent of her perfume, before that too disappears. For one thing he has learned, is that things rarely last in their world.

-------

_sleep will not come to this tired body now_

_peace will not come to this lonely heart..._

_I'll always miss her wherever she goes_

_and I'll always need her _

_more than she could ever need me_

_I need someone to ease my mind_

_but sometimes a someone is so hard to find..._

--------

"No.."

Kasai turns over on his side, looking anything but blissful. _It must be three in the morning. _Half moons shadow under his blood shot eyes. A clear indication that he hasn't slept well for days. He props himself up on his elbows, and reaches for the wooden top near his pillow, aiming it for Kichi's head.

"...please!"

Kasai lowers the top and blinks. He studies his friend carefully for a moment. Kichi is renowned for his talented abilty to peform, but this time he realises, it's not an act. Kasai can see his face illuminated in the moonlight, and it is twisted into an odd expression. Grief. He is whimpering like a wounded animal.

To find Kichi's infamous smirk replaced with such a sight is enough to send a shiver up his spine. He has been here long enough to understand that nothing holds the power to frighten his vain friend. But then again, he never does know what goes on inside Kichi's head, in fact he hardly knows anything about his past.

"No...don't.."

Kasai pulls back the bedcovers and slowly, crawls over to where his friend is sleeping. His eyebrows knit together as he watches the struggle of emotions on his features. Then Kichi lets out a cry and Kasai winces. His eyes widen. Kichi is crying in his sleep. Kasai is half shocked and half amazed at the tears dripping down his cheeks.

"Kaiyoumi!"

"Shut up you idiot," says Kasai in an urgent whisper. "You'll wake everyone."

Kichi doesn't hear. Wherever he is in the depths of his mind, it doesn't seem he can leave so quickly. "Kaiyoumi," he sobs, reaching out with his hands, curling them into fists. Kasai looks at him waringly. Not for the first time, he finds himself wondering why he had to be the one to move in with Kichisaburo. But then again, he wouldn't have it any other way. Kichisaburo is really the only friend he has ever had.

"Kaiyoumi!" He is shaking now, and his voice is growing more distraught, louder. Kasai sighs, if he wakes him, Kichi's pride is sure to be hurt. Who is he to take that away from him? He finds himself remembering what his mother used to do whenever he had a nightmare. Feeling the familiar heavy guilt at the thought of her, Kasai pushes it aside and reluctantly grasps Kichi's hand. Cautiously, he glances at him.

Kichi's eyelids are still twitching, but he has quietened down. Swallowing his own pride, Kasai squeezes his hand, and hesitantly, reaches out and starts to stroke his damp hair. And prays that Kichi does not wake up, for he would probably think something else and there is no forgetting the fact that he sleeps with his sword.

What seems like an eternity ticks by, and Kasai kneels there, not making a sound, watching Kichi's face as it slowly slackens and he drifts back to sleep. Careful not to make a sound, Kasai returns to his futon. He lies awake for a while, pondering.

About his mother. How she would tell him stories at night and, how they used to cook together when he was young. He remembers running in the wheat fields around their scarecrow...

He thinks about Ikue. Her warm brown eyes, the dimple in her right cheek when she smiles. The light that comes to her face whenever she sees him standing by her doorway. Their conversations about leaving Yogotoya and moving to Edo. The way she giggles behind her sleeve, when he playfully talks about the number of children they will have.

He muses about Kichisaburo. The way he struts around the compound as if he owns it, all too aware of his looks and popularity. How he never fails to embarass Kasai, or ridicule him, or scoff about what an idiot he is, willingly turning up on their doorstep. He remembers the day he first entered his room, looking tired, filthy and starving, and the incredulous expression on Kichi's face when he told him he was to be his roomate.

Kasai understands that Kichisaburo pities him. It is plain and clear, in his words, in his actions, in the way he glances at him sometimes. He knows that Kichi has him all figured out. Naive village boy running away from his mother with dreams of life in the Capital. But what Kichisaburo doesn't know, is that Kasai, unlike all of the other boys, now pities him as well.

This night has changed everything.

It has made him realise that Kichisaburo has a heavy and painful past that weighs him down. It lurks underneath his arrogant facade, and as Kasai's gaze rests upon the sword by his friend's side, he wonders what will happen when the burden finally overcomes him.

--------

"_Move_," said Kichisaburo through gritted teeth as he glowered down at the obstacle in front of him. "Don't make me hurt you."

But gods, he wanted to, so very badly. He had just entered the village a moment ago, intent on finding an inn to stay in until he sorted out where to go, but just as he started to approach what looked like a suitable though rather narrow street, this brat refused to let him pass. He found himself being reminded why he hated all children. Even though the ones at Yogatoya were smart enough to blend into the walls when he was around, their presence was still irritating.

In his opinion, children were the stupidest little things, so naive and so damned ignorant.

"I'm not moving," The boy's round eyes were defiant. "Not until you give a coin. If you don't, you're not allowed."

Kichisaburo snorted, then started to stroll forward when he noticed the boy raise what looked like a toy sword.

"If you don't obey, you will suffer consequences," the boy informed him gravely. "This is where I live, and everyone who goes through here must give a coin."

Kichisaburo stared at him. The brat couldn't have been more than six years old. "Those are mighty big words for such a runt like you," he said, gaze turning hard and cold as his hand gripped the hilt of his sword. It was an act of course, Kichisaburo would never slay a child, no matter how troublesome they were. He was just hoping that the kid would become frightened and run off. Instead the boy moved into a swordfighting stance, acting as if his sword were made from steel and not wood.

Kichisaburo sighed in exasperation as he slipped a hand inside his gi, pulling out a cloth purse. The pouch was bulging with coins, all of which he salvaged before burning the old woman's house. The boy's face lit up at the sight of the single coin on Kichisaburo's palm.

He grabbed the coin, placed it inside his mouth and bit down. What a strange child, testing to see if the money was authentic or not, thought Kichisaburo. Now that the boy had stepped aside, he started walking only to receive a hard blow to his leg.

"Ow!" He swivelled around and glared at the child. "What did you do that for!"

The boy lowered his wooden sword, bowed and grinned. "You look new, so I'll show you around. My name is Jiro."

Kichisaburo raised his eyebrows. "I can find my own way, thank you."

Jiro's face fell. "But I show everyone! I want to show you too!"

"Fine, whatever." Kichisaburo rolled his eyes. He might as well take advantage of the kid's knowledge. Maybe he'd find out where the inn was.

Jiro skipped to the front, tugging at the newcomer's hakama as they walked. Kichisaburo glanced around at the open vendors. People weren't staring, perhaps travellers always came through here. Jiro pointed everything out to him in a loud voice as though he were senile. Kichisaburo was about to snap at him when the boy gave an excited shout and started to run towards a shop. He stopped halfway and wildly gestured for him to follow.

From the look of reverence on Jiro's face, Kichisaburo felt as though he was entering a shrine, not that he'd ever been inside one. Then he smelt the aroma of sweets and from hearing the excited giggles of other children he realised he was in a very tiny sweet store. Jiro pulled Kichisaburo towards the shelves and happily pointed all the different sweets the members of his family enjoyed. From the boy's ramblings, he found that Jiro lived with his parents, little sister and an uncle visiting from Kyoto.

After he paid and Kichisaburo was introduced to the shopowner as being Jiro's friend, they finally left.

"So are you a samurai?" the boy asked as he munched on his candy.

"No," Kichisaburo laughed to himself. Then seeing the disappointed look on Jiro's face he paused, and added, "I'm a ronin."

"What's a ronin?"

"A wandering samurai," replied Kichisaburo, placing his hands over his head.

"Wicked!" Jiro exclaimed, grinning. They were leaving the bustle of the village center and moving into a more peaceful street. Jiro smiled at a passing flower seller who waved at him. Every now and then, passerbys would say, "Hello Jiro-chan!" or "Jiro-chan, say hi to your mother from me!"

"You're a popular little guy aren't you," Kichisaburo snorted.

But Jiro didn't appear to have heard him. The scruffy haired boy had freezed, and his eyes were narrowed as he looked around.

"What is it?" asked Kichisaburo warily. Then he heard the jeering laughter, and the whimpers of a girl. Obviously someone important to the kid, from the expression on his face.

Jiro dropped his sweets, unsheathed his toy sword and rushed through the bushes in front of him. Kichisaburo frowned, and reluctantly followed. Pushing apart the leaves, he saw in a small clearing a little girl no bigger then four, crying as two older boys threw her doll around. "Come and get it!" one taunted, reaching forward and yanked the ribbon in her hair.

"Don't!" The girl bravely pummelled the boy with her fists, but he only laughed and pushed her. She cried out as she fell hard on the ground.

With an angry yell, Jiro charged at the bully. "Leave my sister alone!"

Kichisaburo watched the scene in front of him with great amusement. Jiro was now wrestling with the boy, their faces red and angry as they cursed at one another. They were both throwing punches, but didn't seem to be doing much damage. He snorted and turned to leave.

Then, from the corner of his eyes, he saw the other boy pick up a rock and aim it for Jiro's head. Quickly, he swivelled around and nimbly caught the rock. He narrowed his eyes at the offending bully, and drew his sword. The boy's eyes widened and with a scared yell, he turned and ran.

Kichisaburo advanced on the other one, who was staring at him in terror. "I think I should cut you up into pieces for this," he said murderously, his sword glinting in the light.

The boy gasped, Kichisaburo wondered if he had wet himself. He smirked.

"Please don't hurt me!" the bully begged, his face white. "I swear I'll never do it again!"

"You better not," said Kichisaburo silkily. "Now leave!" With a yelp, the boy scrambled to his feet and ran as though a pack of wolves where behind him. Kichisaburo laughed out loud, sheathed his sword, and turned away, when he felt a tug on his hakama. He looked down to see the little girl smiling at him.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"You should be more careful." He gave her a disapproving look. "A little kid like you shouldn't be wandering around all by herself."

She looked at her feet. "I wanted to play with Jiro." She looked at her brother, who was staring at Kichisaburo with great admiration.

"That was so cool!" he declared. "_You're_ so cool!"

"Yeah, it was no problem." Kichisaburo looked up at the sky. It was getting dark. As much as he disliked children he couldn't let them walk home by themselves. "What's your name?" he asked the girl as he reached for her hand.

"Sachi," she answered shyly.

"Pretty name for a pretty girl," said Kichisaburo, and she giggled. He turned to the boy and shrugged. "Well, I might as well walk you guys to your house."

Jiro shook his head.

"I've already made up my mind," said Kichisaburo wryly, causing the girl to laugh again. "So there's no use saying no."

Jiro laughed. "I didn't mean no. I meant we don't have a house. We live at an inn." He proudly added, "Our dad owns it."

"Does he now..."

Kichisaburo grinned. So he hadn't wasted his time with the brats. What a great coincidence, that they were the kids of the innkeeper! Life really did work in strange ways. There he was, wondering where the inn was, only to bump into a little boy that would lead him right to it. This luck better last, he thought to himself. He found himself being reminded of the morning. How he had been staring at the fire when his vision had once again blurred and he woke up with his face in the dirt again.

"I'm just going to forget about it all," he whispered firmly to himself. "I need to start a new life...Why should I keep remembering all these old useless memories? I _won't_."

But this, like so many other things in his life, would be easier said than done.

--------


End file.
